The L Word: Partners
by Xenitha
Summary: Robin is out on the streets as Batman's new partner, but the training goes on. Being physically fit isn't as hard as it is for them to actually mesh as partners.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I have about five story ideas I wanted to work on, but what was it that was calling to me?! This one. I fought it for a week, then gave in.

* * *

The L Word: Partnership

Chapter 1: Christmas!

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File coded: RJG-R-JNL

Quadruple Encrypted

This is Robin's Journel, so stay out!

Would you believe it? Today is Christmas, my first in the manor. Ever since Bruce adopted me, I've been so busy I had lost track of time. Bruce said that I should keep a journel so I don't forget stuff. He also says that journelling (sp?) will make it easier to write reports after patrol. OK, I'll try, but I don't think I want to use all the big words that Bruce does because it slows me down trying to figure out how to spell them. And Bruce says I absolutly, positively can't write like I text. I gotta use whole words and not abbreev...abreev...oh heck...abbreveations.

Anyway, the pile of presents under the Christmas tree has been growing all week and my stack is the tallest! When I lived with Mom and Dad, they usually only gave me one present and maybe some clothes (but those didn't count). Now it looks like Bruce (or probably Alfie) bought out the store for me.

I really hope Bruce likes what I made for him. Bruce has been showing me how to make batarangs, but Alfred taught me to finish them so that they're sharp and to coat them with non-reflective paint. I did a set of three for Bruce. And I made a set of wooden bookends for Alfred in shop class at school. I did another pair for Superman; Bruce helped me mail the package to Clark in Metropolis along with the silk tie that Bruce and Alfred were giving him.

Oh, that's Alfred. It's time to open presents now.

(Later)

I didn't get back right away to the journal, so I might as well fill it all in. Bruce got me a complete Robin uniform set. Now I have a summer outfit (with the pixie boots and short pants) and a winter one with long pants. He's right, though, the long pants are a lot warmer and I don't get the scrapes and cuts on my knees that I did in the short pants.

I went upstairs and found Bruce and Alfred waiting for me by the tree. The stack of presents for me was truly huge by now. Bruce looked a little embarrassed by the size of the pile but I didn't mind. Sitting right in front were two really big flat presents that Bruce wanted me to open first. Who was I to argue? I opened them and almost fell over. Bruce had found not one, but two Flying Graysons posters and had them framed. Alfred, Bruce and I went right to my bedroom and I watched as Bruce and Alfred hung them both up for me. It's kind of funny watching Alfred giving Bruce orders about where to put the picture hangers. When Alfred gives an orders, Bruce moves about as fast as I do when Batman tells me to do something.

I won't list everything I got but let's say I have enough new clothes for the entire circus, some new books I've been wanting and some really cool Robin things. And Superman's gift is that he's gonna take me flying! All day! Bruce looked a little mad about that until Alfred elbowed him in the ribs.

Bruce really liked the batarangs and says he'll bring one along the next time we're on patrol. Alfred says he loves the bookends. I helped him put them on his book shelf and arrange the books. He says that the craftsmanship is so good, only the Shakespeare deserves to be held by them. Wow.

So now Bruce and I are back to training. I asked him when will we ever finish all this training. He just smiled back at me and said, "Never. There is always something new to learn."

I guess he's right because he stays up late even after I go to bed. He's usually reading forensics journals or designing equipment. That's another thing he told me. We don't buy our equipment off the shelf because our needs are to spacif...specific. Darn. Bruce won't let me use spell-check because he says I should learn to spell the words right myself, even if it's only in my journal. He also gave me a dictionary for Christmas and it sits on my computer desk in the cave. It's already looking pretty worn. Sometimes I think life was easier in the circus.

We've started on some new training in memory and attention. Since I started, Batman has been training my memory. First it was playing games of Concentration. First we shuffle the deck, then deal the deck out face down. You pull two cards and try to make matched pairs by remembering cards that were pulled before. When I got pretty good at this, he taught me to memorize the details of a room or a set up of objects. First with unlimited time, then less and less time and finally I only got to glance at it and had to recite back everything I saw, including colors and placement.

Now, Batman is having me sit on buildings in Gotham while he patrols and give him a complete list of everything that happens when he's gone. Thing is, it isn't much and I get really bored. I totally spaced out the first couple of times he left me there and the next night I didn't get a dessert at dinner. Bruce just said that he thinks all the carbohydrates are making me sleepy and I should do better tonight. Yeah, right. So after that, I had it down to the number and colors of birds that landed on my rooftop, the name of the pizza parlor that delivered to the house down the street (and address) and the color of socks the beat cop wore when he patrolled the street from 9:15 to 9:20 p.m. Batman just smiled and Alfred left a piece of chocolate cake for me in the batcave that night.

But Batman really is a tough taskmaster. He's tougher than my Dad, and that's saying something. Dad would make me repeat a move or a flip three or four times, then let me sit out and watch. Batman isn't like that. He isn't even like Bruce when he's training me. Bruce has a sense of humor and smiles. Batman is...grim. Tall and dark and grim. He only has three words in his vocabulary when I'm training: "Again" or "Unacceptable" or "Acceptable". Nowhere in his vocabulary are the words "Great!" or "Better than last time!" or "I'm proud of you!"

Yesterday I practiced throwing the grapple and free climbing the cave until I was covered with sweat and I could barely move. Batman just looked at me through those white eyelets and said "Again". So, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, adjusted my gloves and did it again. And again. And again. I was about to fall off the wall and into the net when he finally called a halt. I don't remember how I got upstairs but the next thing I knew, Bruce was tucking me into bed. Sometimes he really makes me mad!

* * *

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

Alfred says I'm working the boy too hard. Last night I had Robin non the climbing wall well after midnight on a school night. The kid was exhausted, could barely grip the handholds where he's scampered up like a monkey the first few times. I could see that he was about to drop when I finally stopped him and climbed up to get him down. We do have a net, but his falling techniques aren't as instinctive as I want them to be, so I fished him down.

Unbeknownst to me, Alfred was standing in the stairwell watching. He followed me up the steps as I was carrying Robin up to bed.

"Sir, you forget that Master Dick is just a child," he said in the patient voice he reserves for my major screwups.

"He's a professional athlete, Alfred. He's been working out since he was two," I said in a soft rumble to avoid waking Dick, passed out in my arms.

"He is exhausted. You have set a punishing pace for him, even though you have cleared him to partner you on the streets," Alfred said, opening the door to Dick's bedroom before me.

"He has to have training in endurance, Alfred," I said as I pulled off Dick's pixie boots. Still his favorites, alas. "It could save his life some day. He has to know how to work past his limits."

Alfred and I both worked to remove the rest of Dick's costume. Alfred took it away to be laundered separately from the family laundry while I dressed Dick in his pajamas. I had hoped that the argument was over but Alfred reappeared after I had tucked Dick into his bed with Zitka under his arm. I turned off the room light and Alfred shut the door behind us.

"Should I discuss this with Dr. Thompkins?" he asked.

I stopped short. "You're pulling rank on me?"

Arms folded, Alfred was the very picture of British disapproval. "If necessary, sir. It is now," he looked at his watch. "Two a.m. on a school night." He looked up at me challengingly.

"Okay, no training past one a.m.," I said.

"Midnight, sir," Alfred said. "And no patrol on those nights until the child is older."

I felt myself squirming under his icy gaze but gave in. I had to. I knew what choice words Leslie would have for me if she heard about the punishing schedule I had set up for Dick. He desperately needed the training, though. If I weren't there to save him, he might have to save himself. I sighed to myself. I'd just have to find a way to fit the training in somehow. He needed it all: endurance, concentration, memory, resistance to pain.

"All right, Alfred. Midnight it is," I replied. "I'll reserve his patrol nights for the weekends when there's no school and he can sleep late."

Alfred brightened. "Very well, sir," he replied crisply and went downstairs.

Nagging butlers.


	2. Author Note

Author's Note to the readers:

Yes, a troll has again supposedly reported me for double posting the story, calling me a 'review-hungry whore'. Now, that's just not nice language! I don't know if it's the same troll as before since s/he posted ANONYMOUSLY! Man, I really must have totally pissed somebody off :) What can I say? It's a talent.

So, if the story disappears from YJ, go to Batman. If it disappears from Batman, go to YJ. If it disappears entirely, PM me and I'll send it to you. It's a free country.


	3. Growing Pains

CHAPTER 2

ROBIN

I got even madder when Bruce told me I couldn't be Robin on school nights, but there was nothing I could do. He did say that I could train as long as my homework was done. Okay, I have a study hall at school, so I decided to use that for homework. And I'd work extra hard at training and show him that I'm dedicated to this.

When Bruce gave me an oath to take, I thought that was it. I was Robin now, and I didn't have to do anything else, just go out on patrol and help him. But I guess not. Batman showed me a list of everything he wants me to work on and told me I'm lucky he trusts me enough to let me out with him even before I completed training.

"You're very good the way you are now," he told me. "But there are necessary skills that you can only get with practice and with time spent on the streets." And then he told me I could only be Robin on the weekends. What good is that? He could get himself killed without me there to watch out for him!

I don't want to lose another family and I won't! My stealth skills are getting pretty good. I think I can sneak out of the house without Alfred noticing. Batman needs somebody to help him, whether he admits it or not.

Last night was a good example. It was Saturday night, so I went on patrol with Batman. It was really cold, early January in Gotham isn't warm. It's hard to get used to snow and ice when you've spent all your winters in Florida, but I don't complain. Ever.

Batman and I were watching a pawn shop when I spotted a guy trying to jimmy the lock in front. I pointed and Batman nodded. He waved at me to take the rear of the building in case anybody tried to escape, so I swung down to the back door.

While I did that, the guy got the front door open. He let his friends into the shop where they started breaking glass cases and loading up bags. Batman went inside and started, y'know, Pow! Zam! Ack!

From the back it sounded like everything was going pretty well, when suddenly it got quiet. I waited for Batman to call the all clear but didn't hear anything. The first thing he drilled into me is not to show myself when it isn't safe. I only just learned how to pick a lock but I wasn't going to go around front, so I knelt in the snow and worked on the back door. I got into the store and saw the bad guys arguing about how they were gonna kill the Boss!

"Hey!" I yelled. "Maybe you don't like Batman, but he's my friend! Leave him alone or I'll give ya what for!" I closed my hand into a fist and charged into the room.

The first guy laughed and lunged at me. I laughed right back, jumped onto a case and grabbed a chandelier, kicking him in the head. One down.

Another guy stared up at me with his mouth open; he looked just like one of the Three Stooges. "Hey, Larry! Look! It's the Goodrich blimp!" I shouted from the ceiling, pointing out the window. He looked, so I dropped onto his shoulders, busted his nose and had him wrapped up in seconds. "Tsk!" I told him as I left him behind. "There is no Goodrich blimp! It's the Goodyear blimp!"

So far I had two of the four guys taken care of, but the other two were still huddled around Batman. Batman was out and couldn't help me when the two thugs started for me."Okay, Moe!" I grabbed the one with the short dark hair and wrapped my legs around his neck. He staggered into the glass cases, while I whaled on him with my fists and the other guy couldn't get a blow in. I had just put him down when the next guy came for me. "Hey, Curly!" I sneered at him and flung myself into him, knocking him into the only glass case we hadn't broken yet. He went down onto the floor in a wreckage of old silverware, yelping as the forks bit into his behind. "You're done!" I chortled. "Get the point?"

I had them all tied up and was posting sticky notes on them that said "Bad Guy" on their foreheads when I heard a loud groaning from the corner. Batman was waking up. I raced over to him and helped him up. "Are you okay, Batman?" I asked anxiously, looking for wounds.

"I'm fine," Batman groaned. "But those _puns_!"

"I thought you liked my jokes?" I smiled back. He gave up and grinned back, counting the pile of crooks I'd nabbed.

"Good job, Robin," Batman said. I pretty much floated all the way back to the batcave.

Then we went over the bust at the pawn shop. In deatail...detail... First I had to write up my report. Then Bruce picked holes in it and asked if there was a better way I could have done it. I don't get it. I had just saved his life! And I said so.

No, Bruce said. A lot of it was beginner's luck. I should have gone in with a plan instead of winging it like I did. We sat for two hours going over a diagram of the pawn shop until I had all the possibilities worked out. Then Batman and I sparred. He knocked me down three times and I got him once, but he looked pleased at that once.

I'll never be any good at this.

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BATMAN'S JOURNAL

He's a natural athlete. He's so _good_ at all of this! I can show him a scene for thirty seconds and he picks out all the detail and remembers it. Athletically, he's top notch. He even managed to knock me down once when we were sparring last night, even though he's been in training for a year. I give him an instruction once and he never forgets it. I can't say how proud I am of Robin.

It's still hard to think of myself as a father. I suppose that I default more towards mentor or sensei, especially since Dick and I are closer in age than most fathers and sons. Still, I am finding that I look for his face every morning over the breakfast table. Alfred has commented on how pleased he is that I'm finally eating breakfast every day. I'm embarrassed to say that when I skip breakfast, I miss Dick's company and his remarks as he reads the newspaper and especially the comics pages. This kid's jokes are just terrible, about what you'd expect from a nine, almost ten year old boy. In my defense, I've caught Alfred biting back a laugh at some of Dick's really bad ones.

I can't wait for the practical jokes to start. My phase for that was mercifully short, although I will never forget the expression on my Uncle Philip's face when I planted a whoopie cushion on his chair at that garden party. Fortunately, Alfred kept me company over the month that I was grounded. I wonder if I should accidentally 'lose' an Archie McPhee catalog somewhere Dick could find it?

* * *

In the middle of the post-Christmas crime wave, I got a call from Clark. He and the League wanted to talk to me about Robin. I was feeling pretty grim when I walked into the Hall of the Justice League. Everyone was there, even the ones who never make it to meetings. Superman greeted me with his usual smile and firm handshake, as did Wonder Woman.

I took my seat at the head of the table, my place as one of the founding members of this damn organization and listened to what they had to say. Hell, it was almost an intervention!

Superman explained gently that they were 'concerned' about my new partner, namely the fact that he was a nine year old boy. "He's just a child," Clark said.

"He's a very capable child," I replied. "He's a natural athlete, highly intelligent and he's been working for a living as an acrobat and trapeze artist since he was four years old. He's got better skills than most twenty year olds."

Diana just looked worried. "Batman, we understand that you've just adopted Robin as your son and it makes sense that you would want to pass the tradition down. We Amazons also apprentice our girls so that the old arts are passed down, but those who train to be warriors are usually apprenticed at about age twelve or so. And those are girls, who mature early."

"I don't understand why you feel that you have the right to interfere in my personal life," I said and knew that I was grumbling.

Hal Jordon pounded the table with his fist, the one with the ring on it. "It looks bad, that's why! Putting a child in the path of danger? That isn't what civilized beings do! The young should be protected."

"I do protect him," I shot back, meeting him glare for glare. "He doesn't go out alone, Robin is always with me. He sits out the really dangerous cases and he knows to obey my orders, immediately. He wears protective gear and is as safe as I can make him."

"But Batman, wouldn't he be safer still if he remained at home?" Zatara, the master magician said quietly. "My Zatanna studies magic, but she does so at home. I never allow her to attempt the major spells unless I am home to monitor her. One day, her powers will exceed mine. But until then, I keep her safe."

Hal, the one who had brought the issue up in the first place, called for a vote to suspend me from the League unless Robin was benched. Fortunately, I have friends in the League who support me, no matter how doubtful they may feel. The vote went my way, but I could tell by the murmuring that this wasn't the end of the issue.

When they had finished with me, I had finished with them. I drew myself to my full height and stormed my way to the exit, only to be followed by Wonder Woman and Superman.

"Bruce!" Superman said urgently in a low voice, grabbing for my arm. I just looked at him, at his hand on my arm and frowned. He quickly removed the hand, but started talking, always a danger sign from Kent. "Look, I didn't start this. You have to know that!"

"I know no such thing," I hissed back. "You were still their spokesman. What business is it of the League's who I choose as a partner?"

"Some of this is my fault," Diana broke in. "Bruce, Dick is just a child and we all know how dangerous your life is. Is it fair to him to subject him to these kinds of dangers?"

"Is it fair not to?" I demanded. "Dick has suffered the same loss as I did. He has a right to justice; the same justice that was denied me!"

"Except that you haven't told him yet that his parents' killer is still out there," Clark rumbled. "You know it as well as I do. You're withholding the information about Richie Loyd from him until Dick is older."

"If I'm protecting him, it's only my duty as his father," I replied. "But that's _my_ job and not yours." I turned to the zeta tube and activated it, leaving Kent and Diana gaping. I have been seriously considering whether a continued relationship with the Justice League is advisable.

Alfred sees that I am upset but doesn't pry. He knows that I'll tell him about it when I'm ready. Dick, ever observant, has also noticed but says nothing. I think he knows that some questions I won't answer.


	4. Mistakes

CHAPTER 3

ROBIN

Batman came back from a meeting with the Justice League in a grumpy mood. I think it has something to do with me. I hope Superman isn't mad at me for something I did. I don't want to ask Bruce because it'll only upset him more. I think he's maybe a little jealous of Superman. Anyway, it's three days later and he's still pretty grumpy. Even Alfred commented on it. He said something like, "Master Bruce, you are no longer young enough for me to punish you for sulking, but I must advise you that if you do not improve your mood I will be forced to take one of my rare extended vacations."

Bruce hadn't said a word to me all day and was doing the same thing to Alfred, even though Alf had asked him how his day was, whether his new suit had been pressed to his liking, even if he was enjoying the steak that Alfred had broiled just for him.

We were eating dinner and Bruce almost dropped his fork. "You weren't there," he said back to Alfred, and he sounded mad.

Alfred gave him a _look_. I don't ever want Alfie to look at me like that. "Master Bruce, in the course of my duties for you I have put up with a great deal. First, my employer began dressing up as a large bat and stalked the night. Then I was forced to acquire the equivalent of a medical degree in order to tend to your many injuries. And now, I must say, that you are failing to play well with the other superheroes on the playground. That is unacceptable since several of them have saved you in the past and are likely to do so in the future. I would suggest that if you have what you would call a _beef _with your contemporaries, that you settle it forthwith." (I think I got all the spellings right. Alfie uses a lot of big words). With that, Alfie took away the big hunk of chocolate cake he'd just set down in front of Bruce and went back to the kitchen.

I squinched back into my chair, holding onto my piece of cake so it wouldn't disappear too. I probably should have offered it to Bruce, but now he looked really really mad. He got up from the table and went into the kitchen. I knew that I wasn't supposed to follow them and eezedrop (sp? Is this even English?) but I did it anyway. I tiptoed and used my best stealth skills. I even avoided the squeeky board near the kitchen door.

"Alfred," I heard Bruce's voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just...preoccupied. The League wanted to talk to me about Dick. They disapprove of him fighting crime as my partner because of his age."

I heard Alfred sigh. "And did you expect any other reaction? What you are trying to do is...unprecedented."

"He's trained. He's ready." Bruce sounded kind of desperate but hearing him praise me like that made me grin from ear to ear.

"How many years have you studied, sir? How many different teachers have you had? And despite that, how many injuries and near-misses have caught you? This life you are leading the boy into is so very dangerous..." Alfred's voice faded as he moved away from the door. I snuck a little closer, listening hard. "Are you sure of your motives? The real reason you've brought this small soldier into your personal war is that...you're tired of being so terribly lonely. And Dick's spirit is so very bright that you could almost warm your hands at it."

I don't understand what Alfred said, but I think it was good. And Bruce? Lonely? How could he be so lonely when he had Alfie and all those society friends? He was always going out to parties and stuff. Still...That might explain why he's so quiet sometimes. I know he loves me, but maybe he needs me too? And not just as a partner, but just as...me? I can't let him down. I can never let him down if he needs me that much.

"I won't give up this idea, Alfred," Bruce said. "It may be unprecedented, but Dick is up for the challenge. I'll keep him safe, I swear it. Besides, some day I'll be too old for the cowl. It's nice to know that I'll have a fully trained successor in the wings to keep up the tradition. And besides," Bruce's voice dropped very low. I almost couldn't hear him. "I do need him. The time he's been here has been the happiest of my life since my parents died. I don't want him to be left all alone in this house while I'm out on patrol. I want to spend more time with him than my parents had for me. He'll have the childhood I didn't."

"My word," Alfred said. "I suppose that there's no persuading you, is there?"

"No, there isn't." Bruce's voice got louder. He was closer to the door. Uh oh. I darted back to the table and started working on my piece of cake, cutting half of it very carefully and eating the other. When Bruce opened the kitchen door, he saw me eating cake.

"Bruce, I saved half for you," I said with a big smile.

* * *

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

And so he looked at me with his face covered with chocolate crumbs and guileless blue eyes. I've got to say that I've never seen anything so cute in my life, although I'd never admit that to anyone. I suspect that Dick was listening at the kitchen door, but have no proof. If he was, his stealth skills are shaping up nicely.

I sat down and picked up a fork, taking a bite of cake from the half Dick had saved me. "So, have I been difficult to live with lately?"

"Yup. You've been pretty quiet," Dick said, taking a swig of milk. He offered me some, but I shook my head. I mostly drink soymilk these days.

"I'm...sorry...if my moodiness bothered you," I said with difficulty. I don't understand why I can write about my emotions here but find it close to impossible to actually show them with the people I care about. Somehow, only anger and sadness became the only parts of myself I can share with others.

Dick licked the back of his fork, taking the final bits of chocolate frosting off it. " 'S'okay," he said in a muffled tone. "Remember I lived with my parents in a really small trailer. Sometimes Mom or Dad got grumpy and we all just accepted it." He eyed my fork, which was toying with a few crumbs on the plate. I wasn't really interested in the cake Dick had saved for me. "Are you gonna finish that?" he asked hopefully.

I smiled and shook my head. "No. Help yourself." It was a kind of pleasure, watching a healthy boy enjoying one of his favorite foods. Watching _my_ healthy boy. I forget everything I have to be grateful for, and Dick Grayson tops the list.

Feeling better, I got up. "Okay, chum. Sun's down, so when you finish your dinner _and_ your homework, meet me in the cave suited up. We'll be leaving for patrol early tonight."

Dick's grin lit up his face. Yes, we were going on patrol, on a school night. It was early and I'd return him to the house by midnight, then continue patrolling on my own. My indecision was gone; having Robin as a partner was a good idea.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

When Batman told me that we were going on patrol on a school night I couldn't believe it! I finished the rest of the cake (Bruce's too) and ran for the batcave. I had most of my gear on and was doing warm-up stretches by the time Bruce had gotten to his locker. He didn't say anything, he just kind of smiled the way he does. He got dressed pretty fast and did his warm-ups really fast and we were off!

We're a ways outside downtown Gotham. Bristol is a little town inside of Gotham itself, at least it used to be a town before Gotham took it over. It's really different from Gotham. Bristol is mostly pretty trees and really big mansions. We could fit my family's entire trailer into one of the garages, and then some. Sometimes I just stop and wonder at how I ended up here. I mean, my family never had much money, you know? Dad was really big about saving money for a rainy day. He said that you couldn't work forever in something like trapeze. Eventually you get too old and you have to have money for retirement. I know he and Mom bought expensive insurance policies, just in case they got hurt, or... And they were always saving for my college expenses even though we all knew that I was going to stay with the act when I grew up. It kind of makes me mad sometimes. All that saving they did. All the things they wouldn't buy for themselves, just in case. Mom always bought the cheapest food, the least expensive clothes. We didn't even buy our costumes. Mom made them. She did the beading and seekwins too. We never went to the movies, except as a treat. They never got to enjoy the money they earned, and now they're gone and I'm the son of a rich man...

Anyway, we got to the Gotham downtown and Batman turned the car towards the Four Corners, where most of the criminal activity goes down.

"This neighborhood has had a lot of activity lately," he said as we drove slowly down a street of apartment houses. They weren't that old, but they looked shabby, with tiny yellowing lawns. Half of them had boarded over windows, except for one. This apartment house had windows with steel shutters and a big truck parked in front. A bunch of guys were carrying boxes from the truck, up the front stairs.

"That's it," Batman said, parking the car around the corner . "We'll go in from the roof."

This is when I usually start grinning. The next best thing to flying on a trapeze is the takedown. Batman thinks I'm not cautious enough, but I'm plenty cautious. I just like what we do.

From the rooftop we made our way downstairs. All of the apartments were empty, gutted, except for the first floor one. They had taken out all the apartments to make one big room.

We hid in the shadows and watched for a few minutes. They were opening big wooden crates and pulling out guns. Lots and lots of guns, mostly assault weapons. Batman met my eyes and gestured. I moved out to the right and he went left.

Everything was going great. I had taken down two guys and zip-tied them up. I was headed for a third when I heard a big BANG and felt myself hit the floor. I didn't even feel anything right away, then suddenly my leg started hurting really bad and thigh was all wet. I heard Batman shout, "Robin!"

I just sat there like an idiot trying to figure out why my gloves were wet and staring at Batman, who was busy seriously knocking out a guy with a pistol in his hand. The pistol went flying, then the guy was down and Batman was pounding him. All the crooks were down and the gun-guy wasn't moving anytime soon. Then suddenly he was kneeling next to me.

"Let me see," he said in this really calm, almost icy voice.

"I'm sorry, Batman," I said. "I should have moved faster. I didn't even see him."

"I'm sorry, too, Robin," Batman said as he started wrapping my leg with a bandage, really tight. "I should have seen him first and taken him out. This was my fault." He picked me up. "Let's go home. I'll call Gordon from the car."

I don't remember much of the ride back. Batman put a crinkly silver blanket around me and drove really fast, even faster than usual. Next thing I knew, I was in infirmary area and Alfred was cutting off my uniform. He wasn't saying anything, but he looked mad. Bruce had taken off his cowl and was just standing there, watching.

He took a good look at my leg and wiped off the blood. "Well, young Master Robin has been very lucky this time out. The bullet creased his thigh, but merely caused a flesh wound with some bleeding." He put some iodine on (and I didn't even yelp), then wrapped a bandage around it. "I would suggest, sir, that the lad go to bed and rest."

Batman just nodded and picked me up. He took me upstairs to my bedroom and tucked me in. He looked like he felt really guilty when it was my own stupid fault that I didn't see the guy. That's what Batman has been telling me and telling me, that I need to keep track of all the people there. And I didn't.

"Bruce," I said as he pulled the blankets up to my chin. "It wasn't your fault. I wasn't watching."

"Good night, Dick," he said and turned the light off.


	5. More Training

Author's note: Many thanks for Syl's beta!

CHAPTER 4

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

Robin was shot last night and I'm still shaking. I thought he was ready. I thought he could defend himself against anything and instead a cheap crook hit him with a .38 slug. It was a crease to his thigh, the injury was minor but it bled a lot. Still, I didn't know that until I got him back to the batcave and Alfred and I had peeled him out of his uniform.

Dick kept insisting that it had been his fault, for not dodging it, for not being aware of where the shooters were. I know better. It was my fault. I let him go out before he was ready. I was so very anxious to have Dick with me on patrol that I allowed him to endanger himself. I put _my son_ in danger to satisfy my own loneliness.

That's unacceptable and I just don't have the heart to face him after this. If I were a stronger man, I'd keep him off the streets and safe, but I'm not that strong. I need him by my side, not just as a partner, but for himself. The miasma of darkness and spiritual grime that Gotham exudes has surrounded me for years. I've felt like Hercules in the Augean stable, working hard to clean the refuse away, only to find more of it piling up behind me. In the end, there has seemed to be more crime rather than less and I've been closer and closer to despair with each passing year. Then came Robin. When that boy is beside me, laughing as he darts in and out of the melee, the task lightens and becomes possible. I see the small bits of enduring good that we manage to do. And ultimately, I want to raise this boy to be a better man than I am; someone not driven by loss, but by something greater.

At this point, I don't think I can be Batman anymore without a Robin by my side.

I have to think about this. Should I just give Batman up and focus on Wayne Foundation projects instead? I could give Dick an ordinary childhood, and he would be safer. But if I do that, I have a strong feeling that Dick will only go out by himself. He doesn't want an ordinary childhood and he won't accept it. He's a dare-devil at heart, a true adrenaline junkie. Without me there to protect him, without the requisite skills needed to survive, he could die out there.

I already told him that the training is dangerous and painful, but he has no idea just how harsh it was for me. I have modified it to something easier for him, more humane. He's only a child, after all, and a young one. He already has considerable athletic skills, but it's just not enough. Not enough to keep him safe. Until I have a new plan for his training, Robin doesn't fly.

I need to train him as I was trained, as brutal as that was. And it has to be that way, because the men we face are brutalizers themselves. They are violent, ruthless and cruel. They will see Robin's youth as a weakness and the decency that he symbolizes as something to destroy. I don't want to damage his spirit or his trust in me, but he must be toughened so that he can survive whatever he meets in Gotham.

I just hope that he can forgive me.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

It's been two weeks since I got hurt. We explained it away to my school as an accident while I was doing gymnastics. I kept the wound covered and stayed away from the school nurse. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Batman patrols every night, all alone. He won't let me go out until my leg heals and he says I need to train harder so I don't run into a bullet again. This time both Alfie and Bruce agree that I shouldn't go on patrol until I'm absolutely ready. I can tell that, for Alfie, that means never. For Bruce..? I don't know. I can't read him.

I refuse to say that I was shot, because I wasn't. It just creased me and it's all healed up! But Bruce says that he has some new training plan and we're gonna try it tonight. I'm ok with that as long as it lets me be Robin again.

This morning, Bruce appeared for breakfast for the first time in two weeks. He hasn't wanted to talk about the day I got hurt and I've barely seen him since then. When I saw him, I finally lost it.

"Bruce, it was totally my fault!" I said, but he didn't want to hear.

"It doesn't matter, Dick," Bruce said in that calm voice. "You aren't safe out there, and you won't be until you can learn to handle yourself."

"But you said I could fight really good!" I eyed Alfred and caught the slight shake of his head. "I mean, really well! I fight really well!" The oatmeal tasted like mud, and I stirred it in the bowl. "You made me Robin and you let me take your oath. I thought that meant I was ready!"

"I thought you were, but I was wrong," he said shortly. "Tonight we'll work some more on avoiding projectiles. Alfred, do you remember that little exercise we tried when I was training?"

Alfred's eyebrows kinda climbed up to his hairline. "Sir, I hardly think that it would help the young Master's reflexes."

"On the contrary, I think that's the sort of thing he needs. Can you get together some protective gear for him? We'll try it this evening and see how he does," Bruce got up, ready to leave for the office, even though it was a Saturday. That's what he's been like all this time.

"But sir..." Alfred said, frowning.

Bruce just eyed me speculatively and said, "He needs the skills. I think he'll do fine. I'll stop the session if necessary."

Alfie kept me busy all day. He said that "as long as you are unoccupied, you can make yourself useful". That means that silverware that gets used once in maybe a hundred years got a really good polish. Then he strung the smaller carpets on a line and had me hit it with a carpet beater thing that looked like some kind of demented tennis racket that was made when Alfie was a kid. Alfred just watched me, commenting on my form.

"Oh, very good young sir!" he'd call. "More power, sir! More power!" he'd yell until I realized that it wasn't just the carpet that was getting a workout. Finally he let me stop and fed me lunch. Then he put me back to work again, polishing the wood carving in the staircase. "Since heights don't bother you," he said. "You can do the fine polishing." He handed me a soft toothbrush and a spray bottle of some kind of wood cleaner so that I could get the dust in the fine carving while he disappeared somewhere for the afternoon.

About the time that Bruce usually gets home for dinner, Alfie took me downstairs to the cave and dressed me in some kind of protective suit. It had a helmet with goggles, neck protection of all things and bits of armor plate on the chest and crotch. "What am I going to be doing?" I asked curiously. "Disarming bombs?"

Alfred just sighed and was saved from explanation when Batman came down the staircase and took a look at me in my armor. "Good. You're ready." He turned to Alfred. "You?"

"Very well, sir. Will you require a weapon also?"

"Yes. Give me the high-powered," Batman said as Alfred disappeared into the back of the cave where the storage lockers are.

For the first time with Batman, I began to feel a little...scared. "What do you mean 'high-powered'?" I asked. "Not...rifle?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," Batman said calmly. "You need to know, in your gut, how to dodge bullets. This exercise is something I developed that helped me to finally get it. I'd hoped that we could skip it with you. In your earlier training I simply used an array of laser sights to imitate bullets for you to avoid. It doesn't look like the softer way was very effective, so we'll go back to what I used, although the munitions are modified."

What? "You're gonna shoot me?" I could hear my voice, high pitched echoing back from the cave walls.

Alfred reappeared holding a pistol. He handed a rifle to Batman. Batman took it and looked it over to make sure it was loaded. "I'm not going to shoot you, I'm going to shoot _at _you. You will only be hit if you're too slow or inattentive. All gunfire will remain within the training area, as will you. Do whatever you need to do to avoid the shots." He gestured at Alfie, who took aim with his pistol while Batman raised his own rifle. Crap! This was for real! I felt the rush of adrenalin and got ready to run for my life.

I was moving when I heard the first shot. It hit next to my right ear and I was off. The training area has traps, bars, rings, a climbing wall and a pummelle (sp?) How do you learn all these words?) horse. Bruce had taught me to keep the shooters' location in mind at all times, work out their trajectories while I tried to find cover. There wasn't much, but there was some. Another round came whizzing past my foot. I tucked and rolled, then grabbed for the climbing wall, scaling faster than I ever had before. "Hah! You shoot like grannies!" I taunted, then Zip! Ping! Two more rounds barely missed me, so I climbed faster and then launched myself over to one of the trapezes. I swung, harder than I ever had and flipped to the next trap. "Can't catch me! I'm faster than you old guys, Batman!" I called. Seeing Batman aiming for me, I let myself drop into the net, then bounced and flipped myself onto the ground again. As I was racing for cover behind the pummelle (sp?) horse, I felt a sharp pain in my hip and hit the dirt. One of the rounds had gotten me. It hurt, all right, but I could still run. Skidding in behind the pommell horse, I felt for where I'd been hit and pulled back a hand covered with something that wasn't blood. What the…?

"Just what are these bullets made of, Bruce?" I called from behind the pommelle horse.

"Wax. They're a special, non-lethal round. They'll give you a good bruise, though, and can still kill you if one hits a vital spot that isn't armored." Lethal if...I fingered my armor, which covered all the important spots on my body. "Why didn't you tell me?" I shouted.

"You must admit that you moved faster and paid more attention when you thought that the bullets were real!" Batman called back.

I thought about it and yes, Batman was right. But it was still a really mean prank to pull on me. I truly believed that he and Alf were really gonna kill me!

I had a lot more fun now that I knew the bullets weren't real. I got hit only once more and, yeah, it did hurt but it didn't kill me. They kept shooting and reloading for what felt like hours. I kept dodging and taunting them for as long as I had breath. Even after I got tired, I was determined not to give up. The bounce was out of my step and I felt like I dragged rather than flew, but I wasn't going to call 'uncle'.

"Perhaps it's time to stop, sir," I heard Alfred say to Batman.

Batman shook his head and kept reloading. "It's when you're exhausted that you really need the skill. Keep shooting and don't let up."

I got mad. Really really **mad.** No way was that b*****d going to win. I'd show him how ready this Robin was to fly. I was no weenie and I was perfectly ready to be Batman's full partner, not just some little kid that had to be protected! I pulled up energy from I don't know where and resumed the course. I was tired, but that all faded away in my intense concentration. I knew where shooter #1 was and that he tended to pull right. Shooter #2 was less predictable. Although he rarely used firearms, he was still good with them. I had an advantage, though. Shooter #2 wanted me alive and unmaimed. He wasn't committed to killing me, so I had more options tactickally.

I felt exhausted, my adrenelen (sp?) was starting to fade, when I decided that I was done training. I was going to end this. I focused on Shooter #2, the leader and began to look for my opening. There! Shooter #1 was still at it but #2 had stopped to reload. I fell into the net and bounced out again, using it as a trampoleen (sp?) to push me toward Shooter #2. Before he could raise his gun again, I was on top of him with my momentum pushing him onto the ground. I grabbed the rifle and held it in a choke hold against #2's neck. "Give up?" I yelled.

#1 put his pistol on the floor and raised his hands. "Kick it over towards me," I shouted. He did and it was out of his easy reach. "And you?" I asked #2. He nodded.

I pulled the gun away from his neck and as I did, he grabbed me by the wrist and flipped me over onto my back, pinned. I looked up into those white eyelets and Batman simply said, "Once you've disarmed an enemy, don't relax your attention, even if you are tired." He stood up and reached down a hand to help me up. I took it and he lifted me to my feet. "Not bad," he said.

For the next three weeks, we did that training drill every evening. Batman rigged up some mechanical guns that propelled wax bullets into the training area randomly. The best I could do was to watch where the guns were pointed and estimate. By the third week, there were three mechanical guns and Batman's rifle pointed at me. But by the third week, I was laughing and dancing my way around all of them. I finally had it figured out. I also had half a dozen bruises from when I didn't pay careful enough attention.

I don't know how I feel about Batman now. I mean, I trusted him totally before, like one of my parents. But he really had me going with the wax bullets and that was mean. And yeah, like Batman says, it was effective. I'm totally in the zone now and I don't think I'll forget. So, is he mean to be mean? Or is this just what he promised training would be like? He's really tough and stern but...I also remember his face when he thought I'd been shot. Why does he have to be so hard to understand?


	6. Trust

CHAPTER 5: Trust

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

My relationship with Dick has changed because of the training program. I've worked him hard, but he doesn't mind that. It's the deception with the wax bullets that is making him remote and hesitant with me when he was cheerful and affectionate before. I hope I haven't killed any love he had for me, because the training is only going to become more grueling.

Dick has felt sorrow, anger, rage and a desire for vengeance but I don't think he's ever been terrified. What I do is dangerous and often I'm in danger of dying or worse. Those are the times that I have to think my way out of a seemingly hopeless situation. Fear can paralyze the muscles and turn the mind into mush; I had to learn to put emotion aside and focus on survival. Dick is very young and needs to learn how to work through panic, through distraction or chaos; how to think past it, stay calm and prevail.

Since that training, Dick has avoided me. He's done with his workout when I come down in the morning. He takes a long shower to avoid me at the breakfast table. He is silent at dinner. I've tried to talk to him, but he doesn't respond. Alfred just gives me meaningful looks.

During our morning workouts these past weeks, Dick has been unnaturally silent. Normally, this is when we talk the most. He tells me about his life, his activities, his hopes and dreams. I say very little because the silence is filled by my son. I've had to do some adjusting of my own since he arrived. Before Dick, I was accustomed to silence. But since Dick became my son, it's become a sort of background noise in my life. Dick tells me that John Grayson once said that Dick learned to talk at age two and hasn't stopped since. I have to agree with John Grayson. That's why Dick's new silence is so unsettling.

I've tried to get him to open up more to no effect. While Dick is always polite, he won't be drawn out. Our morning runs have become excruciating; Dick is civil, then runs ahead of me by about ten feet. He's close enough for me to see, but not to interact with.

I miss him.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

...And anyway, I haven't been talking to him much since the bullet training. I don't want to talk to him. I'm still mad at his letting me believe he was using real bullets and trying to hit me. That is so not 'asterous'. Sorry, been inventing my own language ever since the English teacher taught us about the parts of words and what they mean. Who knew that disaster is made of a word plus the prefix dis- (meaning 'not')? But every time I try to take a word apart, she tells me [insert snarky voice] "It's not grammatical, Mr. Grayson!"

So, this morning Bruce and I do our usual run across the grounds. I sprinted ahead, keeping my usual twelve feet or so away from him, and I'm determined not to say _anything_ to him; just to ignore him. I've been getting up really early, so I'm almost done with my work out before he even starts. If I time it right I can almost avoid seeing him.

I noticed him running behind me, closing the gap, so I speeded up. He was still running faster. Determined not to let him catch me, I swung off the trail and into the woods, jumping over logs and dodging around trees. I heard him crashing behind me, getting closer than ever. I didn't have to look behind me to know that he was gaining. I grabbed a big oak tree branch and swung myself up, moving from tree to tree as fast as I could swing. That ought to show him!

Bruce went right up after me and I could hear him scrabbling over the branches. A couple of times he went down when the smaller branches couldn't hold his weight, then he seemed to catch the trick of it and began to go more smoothly. I felt a grin plaster itself across my face. Gonna try and catch me, huh old-timer? I don't_ think_ so. I began to look for someplace too narrow for Bruce to slip through and I found it. A thicket of berry bushes. A thicket of spiny, prickly berry bushes growing up and around a row of tall trees. That should do. I could go through but Bruce would have to go around. With a whoop, I shot through the tiny opening and into the other side, hitting the ground and rolling to my feet. I stood there, watching to see Bruce land in a patch of berry bushes. Instead, I felt someone grab me from behind and toss me over his shoulder.

Suddenly panicked, I struggled but the strong hands held me down. Then I caught it, the smell of Bruce's aftershave. How did he...? I struggled harder, then suddenly I was airborne, tossed overhead and I landed in the pond. I spluttered to the surface, covered with duckweed, to find Bruce standing on the shore, laughing.

"Why'd you do that?" I demanded, trying to pull the weed off my head and face.

"You were asking for it," Bruce said, folding his arms. "You've been avoiding me, Dick. I think we have to talk about the training program." He waded into the pond, getting himself all scummy too, and helped me out of the muck. We both went to sit on a log near the edge and talked while we dripped dry.

* * *

BRUCE'S JOURNAL

"Dick," I said. "I'm sorry about the training. About all of it. Let me explain."

Dick just looked away. "All I know is that for about an hour I thought you were really gonna shoot me. And Alfred too!"

"It's dangerous being my partner. When you got shot..." I gulped. I've never been good at these kinds of talks, but I had to make him understand. "When you got shot, I was afraid for you. It could so easily have ended much much worse. I realized that I had let you down; you don't have some basic skills that I thought you had mastered."

Dick turned and met my eyes. "Bruce, I thought those bullets were real! And..and...you're my new Dad and you were shooting them at me...!"

I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and felt like a heel for subjecting him to it. I grabbed his shoulder with my hand. "Dick, when Alfred and I did the exercise when I was training, I knew that the bullets were _real_!"

At that, the boy's eyes widened. "You had Alfie shoot at you with live ammo? Why? How did you get him to shoot at you?"

"I had to have the skill or I'd have gotten killed my first year as Batman." I smiled, remembering. "And I'd forgotten Alfred's history with the military. He got his hands on some training rounds, an earlier version of the wax bullets, and let loose. I was firmly convinced in the bullets' reality until he actually hit me with one, and it was no picnic, I tell you. I limped for days on that leg. If not for the absence of blood, I'd believe I had been shot." I looked at Dick, who had visibly relaxed under my hand. "The training had two goals, dodging bullets, yes, but also dealing with fear. You move and think differently when under stress. You have to learn how to deal with it, and the learning comes best with practice. I didn't mean or want to hurt you. I just want you to be safe when you're partnering with me."

"Really?" Dick said in a low tone. "I...wondered if you liked me anymore..."

"Yes, Dick, I still like you," I said back, just as low and trying to keep my voice from quivering. "You are my son and I would never hurt you. What I'm trying to do is to teach you the things that will keep you safe. That might include some things that frighten you or hurt you, but the purpose is to give you tools to let you protect yourself. I didn't tell you about the bullets because you had to believe that they were real."

"Why? Why did I have to believe that they were real?" he demanded. "We went through all of this already before you let me put on the uniform."

I sighed and felt the impending headache beginning to blossom. "Son, the night you were shot, you were bouncing around everywhere. You were excited, overconfident, distracted by the noises and movement. In short, your mind wasn't in the game and you paid for it. There may come a day when you are seriously hurt, or I am, and it'll be up to you to think your way out of a bad situation. You can't afford to be distracted. Those types of situations are what this training period will be about."

"What? Are you gonna break my leg and see if I can think my way out of that?" Dick's whole demeanor looked stubborn. I had to make him _see_.

"No, but what I am going to do is expose you to different kinds of stress and teach you ways around it. We did some basic work before I let you on the street, but now we're going to focus even harder." I took a deep breath before I told him the rest. "And yes, you're back on the street as Robin, but only with me and some nights I'll make you sit out. Okay with you?"

"So you were only trying to protect me?" Dick asked.

"Yes," I replied. The next thing I knew, I had a muddy armful of boy, smelling of pond water, trying to squeeze the life out of me.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

We squelched back to the manor and had just gotten into the kitchen when Alfie came in. First thing he did was sniff, like he smelled something very bad.

"What is that terrible stench in my nice clean kitchen?" he asked and looked at us back and forth. I was covered in green mud, but Bruce only had it up to his waist. "Master Dick? Would you care to explain?"

I didn't want to rat on Bruce, so I shot him a glance. Bruce just nodded, so I said, "Uh, Alfie, Bruce threw me into the pond. Then he came and got me out."

"I see," Alfred's long nose pointed at Bruce and sniffed him. "You tossed Master Dick into the pond. And then you led him through my kitchen without removing either your muddy clothing, now stained green or your shoes, even now tracking in mud and water weed..." He pointed to the white tile floor. It looked like two swamp monsters had walked across the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Bruce said, looking really sorry.

"Sorry, doesn't get my kitchen clean and disinfected," Alfred said and started to shoo us towards the back door. "Out! Both of you, out! Take those nasty clothes off and put everything into the trash bin. Out!" He shoved us out the door and followed with a big plastic trash can.

"What are you going to do with the clothes?" Bruce asked as we pulled everything off.

"I am going to discard them. Even bleach would never get all this out! Yes," he said to me. "The shoes too. They are ruined, and nearly new, too."

When we were naked and shivering outside the back door, Alfred turned the hose on us. Bruce just took it; sometimes I think Alfred scares him. Once most of the green slime was gone, he let us back into the house to take real showers. Alfie gave each of us a bar of a soap that's guaranteed to take off any kind of dirt. I think the name was 'Lava'. All I know is, it had some kind of sand in it and it took out the dirt, all right, and probably a layer or two of skin.

I met Bruce in his robe at the kitchen table. His face looked as red and shiny as mine was, so he'd used the soap too. Alfred looked a little calmer. He poured Bruce some coffee and gave me hot chocolate, then disappeared back into the kitchen to cook breakfast.

"I don't think I've ever seen Alfie so mad," I said, fishing for the marshmallow that Alfie always puts in for me.

"I have," Bruce said, sipping at his coffee. "When I was searching for Killer Croc I spent a couple of days in the Gotham sewers. But I came in through the cave, that time. He put on a hazmat suit and sprayed me down with disinfectant. We got off light, this time."

I couldn't help it. I started giggling and put my chocolate down before I choked on it. Before long, Bruce and I were laughing out loud.


	7. Trial by Fire

CHAPTER 6: Trial by Fire

Author's note: Hypnosis is real and I've been hypnotized by a professional, as has my husband. My hubby was part of an experimental group that did the bucket of ice water thing. My own hypnotist used to train pregnant women to give birth painlessly under hypnosis, so it can work, although it depends on the subject. By the way, all hypnosis is self-hypnosis. Nobody can do it to you, you hypnotize yourself.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

I've been back on the streets as Robin for about two weeks and I think I'm doing okay. I still love diving after crooks and beating 'em up. Then I zip-tie them and leave a label on them. It says "Bad Guy" and there's a big R symbol on the bottom. Alfie made them for me with the fancy printer in Bruce's study. Batman just smiles and looks a little embarrassed, but I don't want anyone to mistake who was there.

The training has sped up. Batman has been teaching me self-hipnosis. You know the shows where a hipnotist tells some guy that he's a chicken and the guy clucks? Same thing but different. Bruce says that you can't be hipnotized to do anything against your will. {Note to self-check spelling again}. He says that you have to agree to be hipnotized or it won't work. But if you are hipnotized, you can make yourself remember or forget memories, you can blot out pain, you can even have a whole operation without anaes...anesthezh..anaesthessi...whatever... That's how he handles injuries and keeps on fighting and he's gonna teach me, too.

I am not looking forward to this. What's he going to do? Stick me with a knife and tell me it doesn't hurt or something? He promises that he won't move to the pain control part until I'm ready and I know exactly what's going on. It won't be like the bullet thing.

So, for the past week, Batman has been putting me under hipnosis and, he says, implanting (hey, I think I spelled that right!) a command in my mind that I can activate by repeating a code phrase in my mind and telling myself that whatever hurts is going numb. The trigger will put me into a trance really fast and whatever instruction I give myself when I think the words, will happen. I'm more than a little skeptikal about this, but who knows? I'm sure willing to know how to do this.

* * *

Two Days Later

Bruce knows I don't believe in any of this hipnosis stuff, so he says he's going to prove it to me. He brought me down to the batcave and I sat down in the lounger I'm usually in when he hipnotizes me. He put a bucket filled with water and ice cubes on the floor next to the bucket and the ice is melting, so it's been there awhile.

He sits down next to me and pulls his cowl down, so I can see his eyes. "Okay, Robin, like we've been practicing. Say the phrase."

I close my eyes and say "The daring young man on the flying trapeze..." and I feel myself get...quiet. Almost asleep but not exactly, just the way I've felt in trance since Bruce and I started working on this. Then I feel Bruce's voice, soft and deep.

"There is a bucket of warm water, next to your left arm. It isn't cold or hot, really, it's just tepid. What temperature is it?" he asked.

"Warm water," I said. " 'S not cold...just warm..."

"Okay, Dick, go ahead and put your arm into the bucket and all you'll feel is warm water..."

I do as he says and feel the warm water surrounding my arm. It's kind of relaxing. He goes on. "How does it feel? Warm?"

"Yeah," I say. "Warm."

"Good," Bruce says. "Now your arm is slowly going numb, not in a bad way, it's just falling asleep. Starting with your fingers, your arm is going to sleep, up to your wrist...numb...to your forearm. Every part of your arm that the water covers is fast asleep and you feel nothing but comfort. How does your arm feel?"

"Feels fine?" I answer. "Don't feel anythin'"

"Good. Now pull your arm out of the water slowly..."

I do, even though I don't feel anything from the elbow down. I think he dries my arm and hand, although I don't feel that either. Then his voice interrupts my dreamyness. "The feeling is starting to come back to your fingers...spreading to your hand...moving up your arm to your elbow... When I touch your shoulder you will wake up and your arm will feel normal. One...coming out of it...two...further awake...and three..waking refreshed and in no pain at all.."

I opened my eyes and saw my arm sticking up above the bucket of ice. "That was a fake, Batman! I didn't feel a thing. You switched out the buckets!" I said heatedly, pulling my arm down. Then I ran my fingers over my arm. It was freezing cold, and so was my hand.

Bruce grins. "I videotaped it. You tell me if I faked it." He got up and hits a couple of keys on the computer to replay the security cam footage. Only one bucket and it's filled with ice. I watched the time clock; my hand was in that thing for a good fifteen minutes.

"Then it's fake ice," I said and stuck my hand back in the bucket. That water was freezing. I couldn't keep my hand in it for five minutes, much less fifteen. When I yelped and pulled my hand out, Bruce just smiled.

"It's real, Dick , and it does work," he said. "It's saved me many times. There are other triggers and suggestions I'd like you to have. Ultimately, your body may be imprisoned, but you still have a chance of fighting back if you can keep your mind free. You'll need to keep practicing hipnotic induction to keep it fresh; do it after you've meditated in the morning."

Oh, and that's another thing Bruce has me doing. Every morning, meditation. At first it was kind of boring, but I'm getting into it now. It's funny, normally I don't sit still much, so it was really hard to meditate, but I'm getting better at it. Bruce says it will help 'center' me (whatever that is) and keep me calm during battle. He's also teaching me something called Tai Chee Chewon (Oh man, I _know _I spelled that wrong!) It's called a martial art but it's really like meditating while you're moving, but at least I don't have to sit still while I'm doing it!

* * *

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

He responded very well to the hypnosis induction and training. Although meditation is a big stretch for Dick, he's managing it quite well. He's not a boy to naturally sit still, but he has been able to meditate for longer and longer stretches since I taught him. I normally meditate with him to show him that it can be done.

Add this to the ongoing physical training and Dick is kept pretty busy. He doesn't seem to mind, though. I get the impression that he enjoys spending time with me as much as I like spending time with him. I'm glad that I can be a friend as much as a father to him.

Alfred will be out of town for the next three or four days, a long deserved holiday for him. Working for me isn't easy, especially with the Batman's extra needs (secrecy, occasional first aid, equipment repair, etc.). He's prepared a variety of frozen meals for Dick and I to reheat while he's gone. And if we get hungry, there's always pizza delivery. Dick, for some reason, has developed a liking for pineapple with Andouille sausage pizza. He tells me that all I have to do is try it and I'll love it. I'll wait and see about that.

Batman and Robin will be working together again, which is a relief. I hadn't realized just how much I rely on the boy, till I had to bench him. I have heard that there might be a gang war brewing between the First Street Boyz and the North End Crips. We'll patrol near First Street tonight to check on things. Tonight, Robin is back on the job!

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

I'm scared. I've never been so scared in my life and I don't know what to do...Batman's been shot and he's out and I can't get him to wake up! I think I've stopped the bleeding for a while but I don't know what else to do!

Gotta put my thoughts together and do this rationally, that's what Batman says. Writing stuff down can help you organize your mind, Batman says. So write it down...okay...okay...here's what happened...

We went out to patrol First Street at Timms. Batman said that two gangs were gonna dispute territory there. The First Street Boyz were there first, but the North End Crips have been pushing into the Boyz's turf, cutting into sales. Word on the street was that there was going to be a meeting there tonight, but Batman didn't think it was gonna be peaceful.

We parked the batmobile a block away and climbed to the rooftops of the buildings. When we were sitting there, waiting for action, I asked him. "Batman, why do we always swing down from the rooftops. Why not just walk in on the sidewalk."

He crinkled a half smile. "I used to have a friend that lived in the mountains. He kept pet cats that kept disappearing. Finally, one day he put out a camera to see whether it was a bear or a coyote that was getting his pets. Sure enough, the latest cat, Fluffy disappeared. He watched the footage and saw an eagle swoop down and pounce on his cat, carrying it away in its talons." He put his binoculars down and looked at me. "You see, the cat was watching in front, behind and side to side, but it never expected danger to come from the sky. That's why we sit on rooftops."

I smiled. "So that the cats can't see us coming?"

"Or the rats," Batman said. "Okay, here's how we play it. You will stay up here where it's safe. I'm going down to talk to them; I'll try to broker a peace. No matter what happens, you will stay put. Understand?"

The weeks I'd had to sit out were way too fresh in my mind. "Yeah, Boss," I said. "The Bat gets the rats while the Robin sits on his ass..."

"Don't use language like that around Alfred," Batman said and then jumped over the side of the building, the line reeling out behind him. He'd left the binoculars behind, so I watched as he approached the street level. There were about six toughs already on the street. One of them shouted something and pointed up, then they were all watching Batman land. He went in with palms out and started talking. Soon one guy from each side was talking with Batman and it looked like they were getting mad. The guy in the blue bandanna started waving his hands around and shouting. The other guy, in orange shouted back.

Both guys rushed each other and Batman moved in to knock some heads together. Then I noticed a sparkle in a window overlooking the street. I looked more closely...gun! I shouted into my comm-link, "Batman! Gun behind you, three stories up!"

I saw him dive for cover but it was too late, the sniper had started shooting down into the crowd of First Street Boyz. The Boyz started shooting back. Batman was down and not moving at all.

I fumbled in my utility belt and tossed some gas grenades down to the street, then shot off my grapple to the building across the street and was swinging for that window as fast as I could.

It was still open when I swung into the room, but the shooter was gone. It was an empty apartment, so I ran downstairs to the street level but all the shooting was over and I heard the sirens from the Gotham Police Department. I found Batman huddled behind some trash cans, barely conscious.

There was a tear in the chest of his kevlar suit. So, maybe he'd taken a bullet from the Boyz and not the sniper, but the fact it had gone through meant they were using cop-killer bullets.

As I was checking him, Batman woke up a bit. "Robin..." he slurred. "Call...call the...car and get us...home..."

"You need a hospital!" I said. "I can call 911 and get you an ambulance."

"N..no hospitals...too public. Home..." He said, then passed out, so I got the remote and called the batmobile. He woke up a little while I was trying to haul him into the car. He was able to stumble, so I led him and put him in the passenger seat, my usual spot. Once I was behind the steering wheel, I started the car and headed for the batcave. Batman had taught me to drive on the grounds of the manor, but I'd never been on a real street before. It was okay, but kind of slow because I wasn't going to kill the both of us on the way home.

I didn't remember that Alfred was gone until the car was stopped and in the batcave. Batman was in the seat and I could see blood dripping from him and onto the floor of the cave. What do I do now? What do I do?


	8. Promises

CHAPTER 7

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

While I was writing my last entry, I heard Batman groaning in the car. I brought over the gurney with wheels, so I could get him out of the car and onto something like a bed. You can set the height on the gurney, so I moved it next to the open car door and pulled batman down onto it. And, of course, stupid, stupid, stupid Grayson! I pulled the wrong arm and hurt him but he landed on the gurney and I was able to pull it away and over to the medical area.

I left him on it but made it taller-it rachets up-and finally got a good look at him under the lights. The hole was closer to his right shoulder than the middle of his chest, so that's a good thing. I cut the kevlar away but all I could see was a little hole and when I rolled him over, there was nothing showing that the bullet came out again. What does Batman call it? An exit wound. So that meant that the bullet was still inside his body.

When I lived with my parents, they taught me some first aid but they didn't say anything about taking out bullets! About the most I know how to do is cover the person up to prevent shock and try to stop the bleeding. Batman said no hospitals, but he had to have something! Then I remembered, there was a doctor that Bruce liked to see, both as himself and as Batman. What was her name...? Lee Something...Leslie...um...Thompkins! I went to the computer and began to google.

She was located at the Gotham Free Clinic, so I dialed the number.

"Gotham Free Clinic," said the voice on the other end.

"Um...can I speak to Leslie Thompkins?" I asked, realizing how young and dumb I must sound.

"I'm sorry, Leslie's on vacation right now. Can I help you?"

I was tempted. Really, really tempted to just blurt out everything that had happened today and beg her to come help me, but I knew that Bruce would be really mad if I did. The one thing he'd practically beaten into me was that our identities needed to stay secret, or we'd be in danger.

"No, thank you. Do you know when she's coming back?" I asked, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

"She'll be home in about four days. Are you in trouble, hon? You can always come here if you need us. It doesn't cost anything," the other voice said.

For a moment I let myself imagine how great it would be to just drop Batman off and not have to worry about him like this. Then I remembered the responsibility of being Robin and how proud I was to be trusted with important things. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "No. No, thank you." and hung up the phone. What now?

"She's with Alfred. They're vacationing together," Batman groaned from the table. "Won't be back for a week. I'm sorry, partner, but you'll have to deal with the bullet."

"Me?" I answered, feeling panicky. "I don't know what to do. I mean, first aid is one thing, but.."

"I'll talk you through it..." Batman rasped.

I just nodded. He was right. Batman was always right. "Okay, what do I do?"

I knew where Alfred kept all his medical stuff; he'd patched me up a couple times. He told me how to 'scrub up' and I got into one of Alfred's aprons. The rubber gloves were kind of big but they worked okay. I rolled Batman's gurney under a big bright light in the medical corner of the cave. Alfie kept a pre-sterilyzed set of medical tools there, so I got them out and laid them ready to use.

They were scary looking. I mean, all those tiny little knives. Batman called them scalples and I kept thinking about being scalped...and those little grabby things he called forseps...Well, anyway, I turned on the bright light and started.

First, Batman took off his cowl and I helped him out of his uniform. I could tell that he was hurting because he let me do most of the work, although he didn't say anything.

I could see a round hole just below his right shoulder. I was ready to go, had all the tools and...and...I couldn't do it. "Are you sure, Batman?" I asked and I know that my voice was wobbly because he smiled at me.

"You'll do just fine, partner," he said.

"Are you sure you don't want some pain killers like Alfie gives us?"

"No, I need to be awake to help you," he said. "Go ahead, Robin. I know you're up for this."

"Okay," I whispered and began to look for the bullet with the forseps. I stopped when I heard Batman grunt. His eyes were closed and he was sweating.

"Keep going," he gritted, so I did.

Have you ever played that game, Operation? That's what I felt like. I didn't want to hurt him but everything I did hurt him. I bit my lip and tried harder.

I found the bullet and it wasn't too deep but it was really big. I pressed down on the skin around the hole and it popped it out, then swabbed the area with gauze. Batman's eyes opened when he heard the clang when it landed in the metal pan.

"Good boy...good boy..." he murmured. Then he said, "Check it to make sure it's in one piece. If any fragments broke off, you need to get those, too."

I picked it up and showed it to Batman. It looked like it was in one piece, although it was all dented and battered-looking. He smiled. "Good job, chum. No fragments. Go ahead and stitch it closed, then put gauze on it."

I knew how to sew. My mom taught me to repair my own costumes and I helped Alfie make my Robin uniform, but this was different. Batman talked me through it again and it was pretty gross, so I won't go into it here.

When I was all done, Batman let me give him some vycodan pain pills and he went to sleep. I took off the apron and gloves and stuff. We have showers in the batcave and I took a really really long one.

Since my mom and dad died, all I've wanted to do was get justice for them and for other people. I knew it would be dangerous but fun and exciting too. I never thought about this part of it, the getting hurt and the blood and stuff.

Alfie takes care of us. He runs the house and cooks for us, but he also helps us when we get hurt and I know that he worries. He's had arguments with Bruce ever since I began training to be Robin. It feels really weird to be just a kid and to be doing these things. But I guess I'm proud that Batman trusts me with it, too. What we do is dangerous and I could get shot like Batman did today. But I'm not going to think about that. Batman came through okay and I guess I will too if it ever happens to me.

Bruce slept until dinner time, then I helped him up the stairs to his room. I heated a can of soup and brought it up for him. He looked sleepy, but smiled at me. "Thanks, partner," he said while he ate. "You did good work out there, and after. I'm proud of you."

I felt joy tingle up from my toes to my head and wanted to turn a cartwheel. Wow. He's proud of me.

* * *

BRUCE'S JOURNAL

I feel guilty and sorry for putting Robin through all this. I should have planned better, but this has never come up before. Alfred has always been here, or Leslie, for any injuries I may have suffered. The boy looked so pale but very determined when he worked on me. He was very careful, though, and did the job in record time. I can't tell him how proud I am of him, but I'll try.

As I write this, the house is dark and Dick has gone to bed. He is the soldier I had hoped for in my war against the crime that plagues Gotham, but I must remember that he's just a boy. Difficult as it is to show my feelings, he needs a father's care as well as a mentor's discipline.

Later-As I wrote the last paragraph, I heard a noise. I got up and heard the sound of my boy crying.

"Dick?" I called softly, then opened the door to his room. He was huddled in his bed; I could just see the top of Zitka's head poking out of the covers. "Dick? Is everything all right?"

Still under the covers, he nodded his head. "I'm okay, Bruce," he snuffled, pulling the covers down. "You should sleep. You're hurt," he said as I sat on the corner of his bed and wrapped my good arm around him.

"What's wrong, Dick? It sounded like you were upset about something." I didn't use the word "crying"; he's a proud boy.

He sniffled some more and wouldn't meet my gaze. Finally he said, "I was scared."

"What scared you?" I asked softly.

"Y..you got shot...I'm scared..."He sniffled a bit more and I saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

I held him closer and rested my chin on top of his head. "You're scared I'll get hurt again?"

"I'm scared you'll _die_!" he burst out and looked up at me, blue eyes wide and swimming with tears. "What happens if you die?"

I looked down at him and knew that, young as he was, he deserved the truth. "I can't predict what will happen to either of us, chum. All I can tell you is that I'll try very, very hard not to leave you. If anything does happen to me, my will makes Alfred your guardian and leaves you everything I have. You'll be cared for by someone who loves you."

His face took on a stubborn cast. "I want you to take care of me till I'm grown up! I want you to be careful and make sure you don't die on me. I already lost one family and I won't lose you too!"

His words made me realize the truth, that my life no longer belonged to me but to this child as well. I have a responsibility to protect Dick from becoming an orphan a second time. "Dick, nobody can predict the future, but I promise you this, I will do my utmost to find a way back to you somehow, no matter what happens. That's the best I can do, partner."

Dick looked down again. "Okay. I just hope..." His voice trailed off as he cuddled into my chest and clung to me. "Be careful, okay?"

"Okay," I answered and we sat there until he fell asleep.


	9. What Were You Thinking?

CHAPTER 8: What Were You Thinking?

* * *

BRUCE'S JOURNAL

Alfred and Leslie returned from their vacation trip early, Dick having tracked them down via the bat-computer. I came in for a ration from both my butler and my doctor.

Leslie demanded to know why I hadn't gone to the hospital or, at least, to her clinic to have the bullet removed. She carefully checked the wound and decided that Dick's stitch job was adequate, but gave me a course of antibiotics on principle. "He's only a ten year old boy and you had him surgically remove a bullet from you? Bruce, what on earth were you thinking?"

Alfred was less restrained.

"Master Bruce, situations such as this are the reason I rarely take a holiday. What were you thinking? That poor boy, forced to perform surgery on his own father? Couldn't you, with your fertile imagination, have cobbled together some reasonable excuse to have yourself treated in a hospital? Young Master Dick is troubled enough with nightmares without your adding to them." He paused, shaking his head at me.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," I answered. "I didn't have a contingency plan for this and I was pretty much out of it after I got hit. As it was, Dick did a great job patching me up."

"As I would expect him to," Alfred said. "Now, sir, since I am confident that you have lived on nothing better than reheated meals and canned soup since I've been gone, what can I bring you? Perhaps some homemade chicken soup?" When I nodded, he turned to go, then added one more thing. "I don't supposed it futile for me to ask you to be careful in future?"

I hid a smile. "Already covered that with Dick. I'll be focusing heavily on contingency planning from this time forward." Alfred left with a more hopeful expression on his face.

As I lay back in bed, knowing that Alfred's best chicken soup would soon be arriving (and his best is very good), I came to another realization. I am loved. I have people in my life who care whether I live or die. As much as I imagine myself a loner, alone and deserted by the death of my parents, it isn't true anymore. I have a family; very small and fiercely dedicated to my wellbeing.

* * *

ALFRED'S DIARY

...trip was very pleasant, but alas it was interrupted by an urgent communication from Master Dick. It seems that Master Bruce, as Batman, had been shot and Robin was forced to surgically remove the bullet. Good Lord, what has this world come to when I cannot trust a twenty two year old man alone without my supervision! Sometimes I think that Master Dick has the lion's share of common sense among the two of them.

The truth is that I do worry about them both, but am forced to, as we said in the War, 'keep calm and carry on'. When I returned, I found that Master Dick had been doing all the cooking for Master Bruce, rather well, I might add and that Master Bruce himself was bedridden with an incipient infection.

While I cleaned the kitchen from Dick's foray into haute cuisine, Leslie examined Bruce and prescribed a course of antibiotics with continued bed rest. I intend to enforce it, even if it requires me to handcuff my employer to the bedrail. Young Dick was bloody but unbowed by the experience, greeting me with a cheeky grin and a request for chocolate chip cookies. How I shall ever raise the two of them to be responsible men, I have no idea.

One bright note from the entire sad event is that Master Bruce is determined to plan for any conceivable contingency, perhaps as a way of cheating fortune. I sincerely hope that his advance planning bears fruit in fewer injuries in this household. Leslie has been training me in medical care and techniques, supplementing what I obtained from Dr. Thomas Wayne in the service. She has suggested, reluctantly, that I might benefit from some of the weekend courses offered to practicing physicians in the surgical arts. False identification describing me as a licensed M.D. is easily obtainable via Master Bruce and the ability to use the most advanced medical equipment may enable me to preserve my wayward master's life if a future exigency requires it. Best of all, the courses are short ones that would not take me away from the home front for unreasonable periods of time, during which my skills might be needed.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

So, Bruce was laid up for a whole week and Alfred threatened to cuff him to the bedframe until he was better. Bruce was pretty mad, but nobody argues with Alfie when he's got that look on his face.

I didn't mind because it meant I got to spend more time with Bruce. After school, I'd change out of my uniform and run into his room. We'd play video games or cards or he'd quiz me on criminology or forensics. Sometimes we'd watch t.v. but not so much. He doesn't like many shows, says they're boring, but he has to admit that Bugs Bunny is funny. Whenever there was a cop show on, he'd pick it to pieces and show me where the actors got it wrong. He also started reading to me from Arthur Conan Doyle (I think I got that right). I really love the Sherlock Holmes stories. Bruce says that Holmes did the real detective work that solves crimes and that works better than all the fighting in the world. We're "intellctuals and not brutalizers" he says. I think that means that we're smart and not thugs.

He's also going over my spelling with me. My grades in spelling weren't too good last term and he wants it to get better or Robin gets benched until it does.

So, finally Bruce is better and decides to go out on patrol AND he's taking me! Alfred insists that Batman needs backup in case his shoulder messes him up, so I am instructed to keep an eye out for trouble. Ha! Me, guarding Batman? I am so keeping my mouth shut on all the things I want to say about that to Bruce. So, anyway, tonight we're going out together. Batman says there's someone I need to meet.

Next Day-

We went over to see Commissioner Gordon. I've only seen him on t.v. or as Dick Grayson when we all went to ice cream with Babs and Bruce. Meeting him as Robin is different. Batman just told me to stand tall and be very polite. He said that most of reckognishun is based on where and when you are when you meet people. Gordon isn't expecting Dick Grayson in a cape and mask, so he'll probably accept me as Robin and that's it.

So, we went to the roof of Gotham P.D.. Gordon was waiting for us, I guess Batman told him in advance that we'd be coming.

"Glad you could make it," Gordon said to Batman as he stepped out of the shadows. I stepped out behind Batman and let Gordon see me for the first time. The man's eyebrows went straight up.

"And who is this?" he asked. "You didn't tell me you had kids."

"He's my partner," Batman growled. "Commissioner Gordon, this is Robin. Robin, meet Commissioner Gordon."

I went forward and held out my hand to shake. "Pleased to meet you, sir," I said. Gordon shook my hand firmly, eyes fixed on Batman.

"You can't be serious. He doesn't look a day over eight years old!" Gordon said.

"I'm ten," I said. "I'm just short for my age." I could see Batman with a tiny smile on his face, like he thought it was funny or something.

"He's young, but he's good," Batman said. "You'll be seeing more of Robin in the future."

Gordon looked at me, then at Batman. "We need to talk about this," he said, gesturing to a corner of the rooftop. Batman gestured that I should stay behind, so I sat down on a parapet and dangled my feet over the side of the building while they went to the corner to talk. Needless to say, I was listening pretty hard.

"If you think I'm going to let you endanger a child on Gotham's streets, you're dead wrong!" Gordon said to Batman in kind of a threatening voice.

"That's my decision," Batman said, arms folded over chest. "I've tested him and he's ready."

"It doesn't matter whether the boy is ready," Gordon said, looking like he was about to blow his top. "You, of all people, know the kind of crooks Gotham attracts!" Gordon looked over his shoulder and glanced at me. "I don't care what you've done for Gotham in the past. If anything happens to that kid on my watch, I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks. Understood?" Gordon said.

"Understood," Batman said. "Now, what information do you have for me?"

Gordon pulled Batman away and said something I couldn't hear, then showed him a photograph. Batman's face changed and he got that grim look he gets when he's upset about something. Most people can't see that change, he hides it so well, but I can tell. I heard only part of what Batman was saying, "...informed Bruce Wayne yet?" Gordon said something that Batman answered, then Batman was shaking hands with Gordon and came back to me. "Let's go," was all he said. We went straight back to the batcave and he still wouldn't say anything, even though I asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Batman said. "You'll be spending the evening in. You're off patrol for the immediate future."

"Hey! What do you mean? You just let me back on patrol! What's the matter? Aren't I good enough? Did I do something wrong?" I was trying to think of any mistakes I might have made but there was nothing.

"No, you've done nothing wrong, Robin. This is just a case I need to handle alone," he replied as we sped back home in the batmobile. When we got in, he went into a huddle with Alfred but neither of them would say a word. Disgruntled, I went to bed still wondering what was going on.

* * *

BRUCE WAYNE'S JOURNAL

Gordon was worried that a group of mobsters from out of town are moving on Gotham. Among the leaders of this new gang is Richard Loyd, Dick's cousin. Gordon plans to call Bruce Wayne tomorrow morning to warn him and advise him to double security around Wayne Manor and especially his adopted son, Dick.


	10. Loyd

CHAPTER 9

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

The next morning I came down to breakfast planning to make Bruce tell me what was going on. He was just finishing his toast when I got there. I sat down and Alfred brought me my cereal (Croakies! My favorite). I took a spoonful and had to remind myself that Bruce doesn't bite. Not much, anyway.

"Bruce?" I asked. He put down his newspaper.

"Yes, Dick?" He looked like he was in a good mood. Okay...

"Bruce, we're partners, aren't we? I mean, Batman and Robin?" I asked.

He looked concerned for a moment, then answered. "Yes, of course we are. What's wrong?"

"You shutting me out of that case you're working on," I said. "If I'm really your partner, I need to know what's going on. You don't need to protect me this much, Bruce. I can handle it, whatever it is," I said, hoping he would understand.

He frowned. "I said it last night, Dick. You aren't going to work this case. I don't want you involved; it's too dangerous for you."

"But Bruce, my job is to make sure you get home safely. How can I watch your back if you won't let me?" Didn't Bruce understand yet? I had to be there to keep him safe. If I wasn't there, somebody could kill him and I'd lose him.

Bruce stood up and brushed the crumbs off his jacket. "No. The answer is still 'no', Dick," he said firmly. "Now, shouldn't you be going to school?"

"Yes sir," I said and finished my bowl of cereal. Walking out to the car with Alfie, I could feel myself just beginning to boil. I got madder and madder until I could almost explode. I sat down in the limo and buckled myself in, then looked out the window, fuming.

"You shouldn't take this so hard, Master Dick," Alfred said from the driver's seat. "Master Bruce has your best interests at heart."

"I know he worries," I said. "But I worry too! He needs me out there, or why am I even bothering with all the training? What good is Robin if I'm stuck at home or in the cave all the time?"

"Master Bruce lost those he loved most when he was very young," Alfred said gently. "You must understand that he won't allow that to happen again."

"I know," I replied. "And Bruce knows I understand that. And if he needs to protect me, why can't he understand that I need to keep him safe too? I need to be out there. He's gotta stop shutting me out, Alfie!" I looked back out the window. "Unless he thinks I'm not good enough..."

"You are doing fine, Young Master. I haven't heard Master Bruce complain about your skills, but this is something that he feels he alone must do." Alfred turned into the school parking lot.

"That's all very well, Alf," I opened the car door and leaned into Alfred's window. "But I'm still mad at him."

I could hear Alfred sigh as I turned away to go into the building. Oh yeah, I was mad all right. Bruce wasn't gonna shut me out. I wasn't going to let him!

* * *

BRUCE'S JOURNAL

Commissioner Gordon called this morning, as expected, to warn me about Richie Loyd's presence in Gotham. He offered to assign a police officer to me for the duration, but, with difficulty I talked him out of it.

"Really Bruce, I must insist," Gordon said with irritation in his voice. "You remember what happened the last time. You, and especially Dick are in danger from this man."

"Jim, we have the very best security that money can buy here," I replied in Bruce Wayne's most idiotic tones. "We're perfectly safe, I assure you."

"Well, on your own head be it," Gordon grumped at me and ended the call. I put down the phone with mixed feelings. Of course, a cop stationed at Wayne Manor is a no-go from the very start, but I do have some concerns for Dick. "Maybe I should keep Dick home from school until Loyd is caught..." I murmured to myself.

"Oh no, sir," Alfred said, removing my used coffee cup from the desk. "I wouldn't recommend that at all."

"Why not?" I remembered what Richie had done to Dick the last time, almost killing the boy with a hidden insulin overdose. I wanted my new son tucked away someplace safe, where Loyd could never get at him.

"Sir," Alfred moved the cup on his tray a bit. "You've already benched the boy without telling him why and he's quite upset about it. Now, if you tell him that he may not attend his regular activities, he will be convinced that he is somehow at fault. Being punished, as it were. At the very least, you must tell him about Loyd."

I could feel my face harden. "No. I don't want him to worry about Loyd at all. He's only just started to sleep normally after we got him back from Loyd's 'custody'. I won't frighten him."

"It may be, Master Bruce, that the lad is made of sterner stuff than you believe. He deserves to know the entire situation, certainly if you plan to make him a true partner in your nighttime endeavors."

"No," I repeated firmly. "Dick isn't going to be involved in any of this." I considered for a long moment. "All right, he can keep to his normal routine unless I suspect direct danger from Loyd, but...Is his location beeper still active?"

"Yes sir," Alfred replied. "It is embedded in his shoes as you instructed." Alfred gave me a disappointed look. "And, may I ask that you take care yourself, sir? It would be a bad thing if young Richard was orphaned a second time in as many years."

"It's for Dick's safety that I'm doing this, Alfred," I replied, checking my watch. "I'd better get going or I'll be late for the Foundation luncheon."

"Indeed, sir. I'll warm up the limousine," Alfred said.

"No, it's all right. I'll take the Jag today," I replied. "It hasn't been out of the garage in a while. I'll see you tonight," I said and gave him a brisk wave as I went down the staircase. Alfred prefers British cars, which explains the stable of Jaguars and Rolls Royces that occupy my garage. Still, the little blue Jaguar is a favorite of mine and Alfred keeps it in perfect tune. The charity luncheon was expected to raise significant funds for the Wayne Foundation's children's summer camp this year. For lots of Gotham kids, it's the only time they'll ever see forests or lakes instead of pavement.

It was with this thought in mind that I noted the red van that pulled in behind me. It matched speed with me, staying firmly one and a half car lengths behind me. I could see one man driving, wearing a ski cap pulled down partially over his face. I wasn't overly concerned until a second van turned off a side road in front of me, blocking me in.

We were on a country road without shoulders, one of the penalties of living so far outside Gotham City limits. My car wasn't armored. Part of it was sentiment at destroying such a classic vehicle with modern improvements. The other part? Trying to keep my bat-life separate from Bruce Wayne's, I had opted not to scatter bat-gadgets throughout my automotive fleet.

I began to look for somewhere, anywhere to turn off. My Jaguar E-Type S2, alas was a convertible and not retrofitted with a roll bar. If they rolled me, I was dead or paralyzed for life. I was considering my options, when I heard a loud *bang*. I felt the car jerk forward as the van hit me from behind, followed by a second impact when I hit the van in front. They had me. And the worst of it was that I couldn't pull any Batman-style acrobatics because it would endanger my identity. I had to be Bruce Wayne, not Batman. Hang the effect it would have on me, if my identity were known Robin would be an instant target.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

Just after lunch, I was dozing through my American history class. Okay, I like history, I'm just not that interested in the history of machinery and we were studying the railroads. If we had been talking about people, that would be different. Anyway, some guy from campus security came in and said something to Mr. Turner, my history teacher. He looked kinda sick and nodded his head at the guy who'd come in.

"Richard Grayson, you are wanted in the Principal's office," he said, giving me a kind look. "Mr. Jenkins will escort you there."

"Hey, Grayson! You did it now!" Toby, one of my friends shouted from the back. Babs gave a loud whistle. My whole class knows that I'm the one who sets up elaborate pranks and practical jokes, so I left the room with a bunch of cat-calls coming from behind me. I frowned and tried to remember every prank I'd pulled over the past two weeks but didn't come up with anything that rated a trip to the Principal's office. Needless to say, this is a part of my life that I don't share with Bruce.

Anyway, Jenkins, who normally stands guard in the downstairs hallway, walked me over to the Principal's office. Our school has lots of rich kids and politicians' kids in it, so we have pretty tight security. I know that Bruce checked it out before he let me go here. Jenkins, or 'tight-ass' as some of the rowdier kids call him, actually looked sympathetic for once. It didn't look like I was being punished for something.

"What's going on?" I asked him as we climbed the stairs.

"You'll find out soon enough, son," he wheezed as we took the main staircase.

He called me 'son'. This was bad. He normally calls us things like 'brat' or 'juvenile delinquent' or 'spoiled rich kid'. And he's the guy who comes to get you when there's bad news, like your Mom ran away with the pool-boy or your Dad fell off his polo pony.

Bruce?

I stopped and grabbed his sleeve. "What happened? Is Bruce okay? Tell me!"

He gave me an unvarnished look of sympathy. "I'm sorry, kid. I really am." He ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. "Okay, I'll tell ya because there's an ungodly big crowd in that room upstairs and you'd probably like to be told in privacy. Your Guardian, Bruce Wayne..."

"Father!" I corrected him. "He's my adopted Dad, okay? What happened to him. Is he dead?" I held onto my voice and my calm with everything I had.

"Dead? No...no, your Dad isn't dead. At least, we don't think so. Look, Bruce Wayne's car was found off Highway 41, all dented on both ends but he was gone. There was some blood, but not enough to say that he's anything more than injured. Thing is...The Gotham P.D. is on the case and they think he was kidnapped. Gordon is upstairs with the Principal and there's half a dozen cops and...oh...some guy who says he's Wayne's butler. They're waiting to take you somewhere safe, 'cause they figure you're a target too."

"Why?" My voice sounded thin and strained, even to myself. "Why am I a target? I'm just a poor circus kid that Bruce took in?"

"Looks like the kidnapper might be a relative of yours, somebody who was fighting for your custody a while ago?" The security guard looked at his watch. "Anyway, we should be getting upstairs to that office. You okay?"

I knew that my face looked cold and hard, like Bruce's does when he's really mad. My hands were in fists and I knew just whose face I really wanted to punch. One of my relatives, huh? I knew now just what Batman wouldn't tell me and I knew why, too. Good old Cousin Richie was back and he had Bruce. And nothing, but nothing, was gonna stop me from getting Bruce back!


	11. Ransom

CHAPTER 10

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

I followed Jenkins quietly enough, and when he opened the door to the office I saw that it was full of people, most of them cops. When I saw Alfred there, and how worried he looked, suddenly I was scared, really scared about Bruce.

"What's...what's going on?" I asked and my voice came out all wobbly. Alfie stepped over and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Master Bruce has been...er...taken by some ruffians, Master Dick. Commissioner Gordon has been kind enough to offer an escort back to the manor for us," he spoke softly but I could see how worried he was.

Commissioner Gordon approached me with his hand outstretched. "Dick, I'm so sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid that Bruce has been kidnapped. We don't know a lot yet, but I'm going to move you to protective custody just in case."

"It's my cousin Richie isn't?" I stood with teeth gritted, my hands balling into fists.

Gordon looked troubled. "I am very much afraid that it is. We haven't received a ransom demand yet, but it is known that Richard Loyd is in Gotham. Considering the bad blood between him and Bruce, it would not surprise me."

I ran my eyes over the crowd. "I want to go home. I mean, that's where they'll call for ransom, won't they?"

Gordon looked thoughtful. "Son, Bruce would kill me if anything happened to you." Gordon ran a hand through his hair, making stiff spikes in it. "In fact, I was just discussing that with Alfred. Maybe it would be better if you weren't at the manor right now."

"I don't care", I said stubbornly. "I want to be home." I looked from Alfred to Gordon and back again. I _had_ to go after Bruce and they were getting in the way. "Bruce wasn't taken from the Manor, was he?"

"No. His car was found unoccupied on the highway into Gotham," Commissioner Gordon said reluctantly. "Nevertheless, the Manor is far outside city limits. It would be hard to protect you adequately in a house that big and so far away." His eyes took on a gleam. "I know that you and Barbara are friends. I had planned to have you as a house guest until this all blows over."

That stopped me. Babs was smart. I hate to say it, but I think at times she smarter than me, even if she is a girl. It would be nice to have help looking for Bruce. Trouble was, if I got her to help me I have to tell her about Robin and Bruce would be furious. And if I tried to look for Bruce while living with Gordons, I might give myself away. No, I needed the manor and the Batcave, like it or not. I shot Alfie a desperate, pleading glance. He finally nodded.

"No, Commissioner, I think that the lad and I will go back to the manor. Since you have already stationed some of your men there, I don't anticipate any dangers. Shall we go now?"

Gordon had no other option but to let us leave. Two of his uniformed cops came with us to join the two who were already at the manor, stationed by the telephone.

It was funny, the house is really big, you know? But it seemed emptier somehow without Bruce in it. Alfie cooked dinner for the cops and me. We all sat at the big dining room table and I could tell that they really liked the food. One, I think it was Officer Bullock, said it was the best meal he'd ever had. Seeing Alfie's expression I could tell that worry for Bruce was fighting with pleasure at the praise of his meal.

Just as we were finishing, the phone rang. Bullock motioned to Alfred to answer and moved himself over to the extension where they'd set up a recorder and a trace.

* * *

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

I woke up with the taste of iron in my mouth and an aching head. They'd finally brought me down with a combination of good fighting skills and chloroform. Bruce Wayne didn't have a chance and Batman had to stay out of it.

I was lying on a pile of sacking, both ankles and wrists restrained with what felt like rope. Since they'd bound me while unconscious, I hadn't been able to stiffen my muscles to set some slack. That makes it harder to get out, but not impossible. I started to shift my wrists in an effort to slip a hand free, but knew that it would take a while.

A familiar voice interrupted my reverie. "Bruce Wayne, so good to see you again," the unwelcome voice of Richie Loyd, followed by an equally unpleasant face swam into view. I'd beaten him pretty thoroughly the last time we'd met. Trying to force him to give me information that would save Dick's life and, admittedly, enraged at what he'd done to my boy, I hadn't held back much. Loyd's nose, broken and not set well, remained crooked and flat, marring the good looks inherent in Dick's family.

I glared up at him. "You! You got your money. Now what do you want?"

He grinned down at me through broken and crooked teeth. I'd done that too. Clearly he hadn't spent the money on dentistry or plastic surgery.

"More money," he said, sneering back. "And some revenge, Wayne." He squatted down at my level, still grinning. "And it starts now." With that, he back-handed me across the face, drawing blood with a chunky ring he wore. "Most of the money's been invested, so I'd like some more capital."

"You bought your way into one of the crime families, didn't you?" I demanded and was gratified to see the answer in Richie's eyes. It explained his presence in Gotham and his involvement in the drug trade. "So why do you care what happens to me or Dick?"

Richie frowned. "You wouldn't understand something like family pride, would you Bruce? It's bad enough that my cousin had the gall to marry a circus gypsy! But then she went and gave birth to that little half-breed cockroach she named after our grandfather. And he owns half of our family home! That can't be allowed. I gotta make things right..."

I felt my face turn pale. "You'll never get your hands on that boy! You may have me, but I'll guarantee you that Dick is safe and protected by the police. You'll _never_ get your hands on him ever again."

Richie just smiled and removed a cell phone from his pocket. "We'll just see about that," he said, smirking, and dialed a number.

"Hello," he said. "I want to talk to Alfred."

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

So I knew that voice. It was Richie all right. Alfie said, "This is Alfred. How may I help you, sir?"

"First off, don't worry about tracing this call. I'm using a burner cell phone. I've got Wayne and I'll give him back when you give me what I want," Richie said. I could tell he was sneering on the other end. It made me mad that such a...a...thug could be so smug!

"What is it you want, Mr. Loyd?" Alfred said politely.

"Twenty million in used hundred dollar bills, to be delivered per my instructions," Loyd said. "Given Wayne's fortune, this is petty cash to him."

Alfred caught sight of Officer Bullock's hand, pointing to the list he'd made out to help Alfie talk to the kidnapper. Alfred cleared his throat. "We can't possibly pay anything unless we have proof that Mr. Wayne is alive and unhurt. I must speak with him."

Richie chuckled. "Fine. Here ya go...Okay, Brucie, say hello to friends and family."

When I heard Bruce's voice, something in me relaxed. He was alive and he didn't sound hurt too bad. In fact, he sounded furious. I started to feel just a little bit sorry for Richie when Bruce got himself loose.

"You are not to pay anything!" Bruce said in a growl. "And make sure that Dick is guarded. Loyd is more unbalanced than we thought he was."

Richie's voice came over the line. "Unbalanced, am I? Well, here's what I want. Wednesday night at ten p.m., my cousin Dick will deliver the money to Gotham Park at the pavilion. If you don't follow my instructions, Wayne is dead."

"Master Richard deliver the ransom money?" Alfred gasped. "That's impossible! He's just a child!"

"That's what I want and that's what you'll do, or Wayne is dead, dead, dead!" Richie snarled and hung up.


	12. Robin Plans

CHAPTER 11

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

When I heard Richie's demand, I roared with anger and frustration. Undoubtedly, this was to be a large part of Richie's revenge and his own way of cleansing his family's dubious honor. But that such a lowlife would threaten my son was simply unbearable. I forced back the rage and made my voice calm.

"They won't let him do it, you know," I said as evenly as I could. "He _is_ just a child, only nine years old. Alfred won't let him be used as your pawn in this, no matter what happens to me."

"I know that Gordon is involved," Richie said. "They'll put together some trick to 'protect' him, but I know the kid, too. He'll weasel his way around it." Richie approached me. "I've seen the way that kid looks at you, like you're the earth, the moon and the sun all rolled up together. If I make it easy for him, he'll try to help you."

"Why do you want him so much?" I asked. Why this obsession with Dick?

Richie just looked at me as though I were stupid. "My grandfather left the house to Mary and me. Since Mary died, half the place is Dick's." He spat my boy's name as though it were an epithet. "That house should be all mine, and it will be once the kid is dead. I'm the last Loyd and it should have been left to me. Don't you understand?" He leaned in, eyes glittering. "The Loyds have been in this country for over two hundred years and in that house nearly as long. We have more tradition and history than the Waynes ever did. I was raised in that house and I'm all that's left! No carnie brat is going to take that away."

"Why not just ask for the house as your ransom? You don't have to kill Dick to get the property for yourself," I said as I continued to work my wrists and ankles, trying to get out of those ropes.

"I want it all. And I want you both gone," Richie said. "And even if Dick doesn't bring the ransom, I can still kill you and get the boy later. There's plenty of time. With you gone, the boy inherits your fortune and I can get to him anyway."

"How? How can you get to him? He'll have the best security money can buy!" And the JLA personally watching out for him if I die. I needed to know what Richie's contingency plans were so that I could get word to Alfred somehow. "What family have you joined?"

"I supposed it's safe enough to tell you. You aren't going anywhere. The Poltorevna family is moving in on Gotham. They've been very successful smuggling Venom into Metropolis. I provided local contacts, seed money and a location to work out of."

I looked around the room I was in, suddenly seeing the vaulted stone ceilings and the empty wine racks. "This is the Loyd mansion, isn't it? We're in the wine cellars..." But, the walls didn't look right...There was something metallic covering them. "Lead foil...?"

"Superman is one of your buddies. I learned that the hard way last time we met, Brucie. It's amazing how cheap lead foil is. Adds a real classy flavor to the old place, if I do say so myself," Richie said and opened the door behind him. He gestured to two big toughs wearing an arsenal. "Keep an eye on him, boys. Don't get too close, though. He's had martial arts training. If he gives you trouble, go ahead and shoot him. We're killing him anyway."

Both men sat down and stared at me fixedly while I stared right back and kept subtly working on the ropes. I knew that Alfred was intelligent enough to keep Dick out of this, so it was up to me.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

"Master Bruce expects me to be intelligent enough to keep you out of this muddle," Alfred insisted in a soft voice. I was helping him with the dishes while the cops watched the big screen tv in the family room.

I gave the fine china an extra swipe with the dish towel and set it carefully back into the china cupboard. Alfie doesn't like to use the dish washer on the good stuff and he'd broken out the best for tonight's 'guests'. "Look, Alfie," I said in my most grownup manner. "I'm trained, or mostly. Anyway, it's my job to rescue Batman if he gets into trouble." I hissed the last part so that only Alfie could hear me.

"While I acknowledge that Master Bruce had that in mind when he began to train you, at this point you are my responsibility. I don't wish to be the one who must explain your demise later to Master Bruce." Alfred swished the hot, soapy water expertly through the crystal glasses.

"I'm not gonna die, Alfie!" I replied firmly. "This is my_ job_. You've gotta let me do it! Bruce needs me and I owe him...well, I owe him everything! And anyway, the kidnapper said we had to follow the instructions or he was gonna kill Bruce. That's the best reason for me to be there. They won't be expecting..." Low voice. "Robin."

Alfred looked very troubled. He let the water out of the sink and began to help me finish the dish drying. "Have you a plan, then?"

"Yes, I do," I replied. "Meet me in the cave in half an hour and I'll tell you about it." I raised my voice. "I've gotta do my homework, Alfie. I'll be in Bruce's study for the next hour or two."

Alfred followed me out of the kitchen, our voices loud enough to hear over the tv. "I've got a special project I have to work on," I said and started to climb the stairs. Unfortunately, Officer Bullock heard me and got up.

"I'll come witcha, kid," he said, working the toothpick at the corner of his mouth.

"No, I'll be safe in the study," I said. "As long as you guys are in the house, it's okay, isn't it Alfie?"

"Of course, Master Dick," Alfred followed up smoothly. "Gentlemen, you will only distract Master Dick if you follow him too closely. He needs the solitude to concentrate upon his homework."

Bullock finally nodded and sat back down again. "Okay. I'll check up on ya in an hour, though."

Both Alfie and I heaved a sigh of relief. As I climbed the stairs to the study, I heard Alfred offer the cops some of his freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

Inside the study, I locked the door behind me and quickly opened the old clock that was the doorway to the batcave. I ran down the steps as fast as I could and dressed out in my uniform, then sat down at the computer station. I pinpointed the park where the money drop was supposed to happen. It was pretty remote and bordered the River Gotham. That was probably how the crooks were going to get away, but Batman had taught me to sail the batboat (silly name, huh?). I could hide it in the reeds nearby and follow the crooks after Dick Grayson gave them the slip.

"Consider all contingencies" That was what Batman kept saying, so I needed to plan for other getaways. By car, the cops would stop them or follow them. Unlikely. By air? Maybe a helicopter. About as likely as a boat. I should have the whirlybat parked nearby and hidden. I haven't soloed yet, but I've done the sims and my scores are good.

Alfred found me just as I was memorizing the map of the park.

"I see that you have begun to prepare," he said, looking at the screen overhead. "What is your plan?"

I explained about the potential escape routes. I'd deliver the money as planned, follow Alfred back to the limo and sneak out the opposite door while he pretended that I was sick or something. I'd take either the bat boat or the whirlybat and follow the crooks. Pretty basic, I guess.

"And how will you prevent the police from catching you and discovering your identity?" Alfred asked.

"Psh! Both the boat and the whirlybat are faster than anything Gotham can afford. I'll be way ahead of them!" I said, knowing that I was right. "Batman says that most crooks are pretty stupid. That's why they're crooks."

"He also has warned you against over confidence," Alfred said sharply. "Your plan seems workable, although I will need to convince the police that you are in my custody...Perhaps a small dummy in your clothing? Yes, that should do. You are prostrate with fear and grief over the entire sordid experience."

That night, I drove the batboat out to the area and docked it near the pavilion. I camoflaged...camofluage...(darn that spelling!) anyway I hid it with some branches and reeds and stuff so it wouldn't be seen. Alfie flew the whirlybat and hid it too. Then we called the batmobile and drove home.

I came out of the study two hours later to find all the cops asleep and snoring, especially Officer Bullock who had sat himself just outside the study door. Sneaky Alfie had put some extra ingredients into the cookies and cocoa.

Tomorrow was the big day and I went over the plan in my mind while I was trying to sleep. I woke up about three times with nightmares about Bruce being killed and being an orphan again. From what Bruce told me about when he was a kid, being a rich orphan isn't any better than being a poor one. When I woke up the last time, I got up and tiptoed past the cops to Bruce's room. Even if he wasn't there, the room still smelled like him. Zitka and I tucked ourselves into the middle of Bruce's big bed and it almost felt like snuggling up next to him with his arm around me. Almost.

The next day was the big day. Gordon and Alfred got into a big argument about whether I should be the one to deliver the ransom, but Alfie won. In the end, Alf was my legal guardian if Bruce wasn't there and it was all written down and legal. Lucius looked really worried, but he got the money together. Looks like we'll be eating a lot of ramen if we don't get the money back, 'cause Lucius got it out of all Bruce's 'liquid' accounts. Alf told me that 'liquid', when you're talking about money, means it's available to be used right now and you don't have to wait for it. I guess I'll have to learn all this money stuff if Wayne Enterprises is going to be mine some day, but that won't be for a long, long time because I'm going to get Bruce back.

Ten P.M.

We're waiting here and it's kinda tense. Alf packed my uniform in the limo, and Batman's too, just in case. Finally, the hour comes and Alf gets me out of the limo. The armored car with the money is already there and they'll give the whole thing to the kidnappers if they have to, but I still think they're going to use a boat. Anyway, they park the truck next to the pavilion. I go up and sit on the bench while Gordon and his men back off and try to stay unnoticed. Still, I can hear Officer Bullock's *Braaaap!* of a burp, so I know they aren't too far away. Alfie made them chili for dinner and they ate it up like, as Alf said, 'They were starving wolfs' (wolves?...wolfs). And it was a funny thing, after they all slept so soundly because of Alfie's cocoa and cookies? Nobody admitted to falling asleep, not one of them! HA!

Anyway, there was a light in the ceiling of the pavilion but everybody was far away from me. All I could do was sit and wait. After a long while, I began to listen to the sound of the river nearby, the rustle of the trees...wait a minute...there was no wind tonight!

Before I could make a sound, someone grabbed me from behind and put a cloth over my face. I recognized the scent from Batman's training: kloroform...chlorfor...chlorophor...Anyway, it knocked me out.

When I woke up, I had a headache and my neck had a crick in it...and my arms hurt...and so did my legs. I also heard a voice whispering to me..."Dick! Dick! Wake up!" Funny, it sounded just like Bruce but it was higher pitched, like he was worried or something.

"Mrfl?" I managed to say. My mouth was really dry and the room was dark, so I couldn't see much. There was some kind of rough cloth against my cheek. I tried to get up but found out that my hands were tied behind my back and my feet were tied too. I coughed; my mouth was too dry and that made my head hurt even more. The voice kept on, insisting I wake up when I just wanted to go back to sleep. Finally, I pried my gummy eyes open and saw Bruce, lying next to me on a pile of sacking and looking at me intently, his face really scared-looking.

"Bruce!" I yelled. I was so glad to see him and he was in pretty much one piece. He cracked a pained smile.

"Chum, what the Hell are you doing here? What was Alfred thinking, letting you deliver the ransom? You should be home safe!"

I just glared at him. "Shut up. I'm rescuing you!" I said.


	13. Rescuing Bruce

CHAPTER 12

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

Bruce scrunched himself closer to me, so that I could see his face. He looked worried because I'd yelled at him. "Are you okay? Did one of them hit you on the head?" He craned his neck, looking for injury.

I looked around and double checked that we were alone in the room. "Bruce, it's okay," I said with a grin. "You didn't think Robin was just gonna leave Batman here without trying a rescue, did you? Alfie and I worked on this. I had three different contingency plans, just like you taught me. I shrugged my shoulder and a tiny knife dropped into my hand. "Just give me a moment and I'll be free." I started sawing at the ropes.

His eyes glittered with something like approval. "Okay, but make it fast." I got out of my ropes quickly, then cut him free. Soon we were both standing side by side.

"The electricity should cut out in about five minutes," I said, showing Bruce my watch. "The Batmobile is parked outside, and it will set off an EMP signal to black out all electronics here. Our uniforms are in the trunk. After we've 'rescued' Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson..." I grinned at Bruce. He grinned right back.

"We'll catch us some crooks."

* * *

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

I have to admit that when the door opened and Dick was tossed next to me, I was terrified. I felt better when I saw that he was breathing, but couldn't be sure of his condition until he regained consciousness. From that point, I went from concern to amazement. I've always known that Dick is a plucky kid, but that night he was on fire.

After he cut the ropes that bound me, we slipped out of the wine cellar and into the Batmobile. A few minutes later, Batman and Robin reentered the building to take names and retribution.

Robin flew at Mook #1 while I took down #2. The boy seemed to intuit every move I planned and he reacted accordingly. We worked together like a perfect unit and it was a joy to watch him.

Hearing the noise, Richie came into the room and found us standing over two very unconscious thugs which Robin had just zip-tied. I ran for Richie, but my boy got there first, jumping him and bringing him to the ground on his back.

Crouched on top of him, Robin began to punch his cousin's face, first with a left, then with a right. It was when I saw the tears running down his cheeks that I stopped Robin with a hand on his shoulder. The boy stopped punching and slowly climbed off Richie's chest, then climbed to his feet to stand next to me, shaking.

Dispassionately, I saw that Richie's nose had been broken again and he had two black eyes. Aside from that, less damage than Bruce Wayne had inflicted before. Robin's aim was off because of the tears blinding his eyes.

"I...didd't do adyting to YOU! Why'd you hurd be?" Richie whined.

"You're a kidnapper, a thief and you tried to kill Richard Grayson. There are half a dozen warrants out against you, Loyd," I growled in my deepest voice. "You'll be paying for that."

Richie's bruised eyes took on a gleam. "I still god some cash left. How boud one million do forged all aboud dis...?"

My face twisted in distaste and I saw Robin twisting his gauntleted hands into fists. I hauled Richie upright and slammed him against the wall face first. "No deal," I said and began to zip tie him. Then I cocked my head to one side when I heard the sound I'd been waiting for: police sirens. And about time, too.

I pushed Richie back to the floor and tucked my card onto his chest, then nodded to Robin. He took a long hard look at his fallen enemy, then flashed me a smile and nodded back. We both made our way out of the old Loyd mansion to the ground level and back to the batmobile.

On the long drive back to Gotham, I heard Robin sigh.

"Penny for your thoughts, Robin," I said.

"It's just that...I always thought that family, your blood relations were the ones who would take care of you and love you. I never thought that someone I was related to would..." His voice faltered and he looked out the window.

"What's that old saying, chum? You can't pick your family but you can choose your friends?" I put a hand on his arm. "You've still got Alfred and me. I like to think that we're your friends as well as your family."

Robin turned back to give me a watery smile. "Yeah. You two are my family now. I'm glad I have you."

I just gave him a half smile back and knew he understood.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

...so we went back to the manor. Bruce told a long story to the reporters about how Batman and Robin had travelled all the way to Metropolis to free us, then had beaten up the kidnappers. The armored car was found parked in the back of the house, still full of money. Two million dollars of Bruce's original money was found among Richie's belongings, too.

Batman and I sat down the next day to do our usual after-case meeting. Batman calls it a 'case review'. He pointed out all the mistakes I'd made.

"Three contingency plans is a good start, but you have to anticipate any possible occurrence. A lot of your success wasn't due to planning but just dumb luck, Robin," Batman said.

"Dumb luck wasn't what put a knife up my sleeve, Batman," I said stubbornly.

"What if they had taken the time to search you? I'll show you how to hide weaponry and defensive tools in the hems of your uniform. They're less likely to show up in a search," Batman said, then looked at my face and relented. "Just the same, you did good work out there. Especially so, in anticipating that Richie was likely to grab you as well as the ransom."

I looked Batman in the eye. "Well?"

"Well, what?" he replied.

"Am I good enough to be your partner? Not just on probation, but out there with you on the streets?" I asked, standing up straight. I knew that my body language demanded his respect. I'd done it, after all. I'd rescued Batman.

He frowned a little, thinking hard, then he thrust a gauntleted hand out towards me. "We'll be patrolling tonight, partner. Make sure your homework is done before we go out." I shook his hand and our partnership was born.

* * *

EPILOGUE

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

Life has slowed down somewhat. I hadn't realized just how useful it is to have someone to watch my back out there. Robin is very perceptive and quite gifted in martial arts. We mesh as a team with very little need for my direction. He seems to know what I need him to do without my telling him.

I am still adjusting to his constant presence in my life. I have begun to cherish the occasional silence, since the boy never seems to stop talking. Not that I mind his chatter, generally. His observations are intelligent and often quite humorous. He seems to consider it a challenge to make me break out into laughter, which I do, much more often than formerly. To my dismay, I've begun to repeat some of his puns. Alfred just smiles and makes no comment.

I still worry about Robin in the field, but try not to let him know it. It would hurt him more to force him to stay home than to let him continue as my partner. I do watch over him carefully with the full knowledge that the criminals are beginning to suspect that the boy is important to me.

Since Dick arrived and became my son, my life has become lighter and more joyous than I had ever dreamed possible. I have someone to plan for, to teach. Dare I say it? To love. I'm grateful to have the privilege of raising John and Mary Grayson's son.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

Richie was sentenced to 10-20 years in prison. I had to testify but that was okay. By the time it went to trial, I had been working steadily as Batman's partner for a year and a half. I'd testified lots of times already.

The day after Richie was sentenced, Bruce brought me the legal papers that Lucius had had drawn up. "Are you sure you want to do this, Dick?" He asked. "I mean, this is your heritage."

"No, it's not," I said. "I'm a Grayson, or a Wayne," I shot Bruce a smile. "Not a Loyd." I carefully wrote my name in the blank that Lucius had marked for me: 'Richard Grayson-Wayne'. "If Richie wants that old house so much, he can have it. I don't want to have anything to do with him ever again," I said and handed the paper back to Bruce.

Now life is pretty normal, if you can call being Batman's partner 'normal'. Batman has finally caved in and let me load 'spell-check' onto the computers in the batcave. (Yippee! No more looking stuff up!)

He's also promised to introduce me to the rest of the Justice League. And now, because of me, some other heroes have taken on apprentices like me: Green Arrow and the Flash. Soon we'll be going to meet the other kids and I'll have friends my age who know what it's like. And who knows? Maybe the other kids and I can fight together as a team some day. Wouldn't that be something?

THE END-

Author's note: This story is a sequel to another story posted in the Batman category: "The L Word"


	14. Dancing With Monsters

This is the first chapter of the sequel to "Partners". The story is filed in the category: Cartoons: Young Justice, if you'd like to read subsequent chapters.

Author's Note: This takes place after "Auld Acquaintance" and before Dick Grayson became Nightwing. The plot will contain elements of Robin: Year One, but I'm writing my own version of it which will depart from canon. This is Earth-16, after all. This story is the third in "The L Word" series, following "Partners". You don't need to read the previous two stories to understand this one.

* * *

DANCING WITH MONSTERS

_(Batman)__  
__where have you gone?__  
__Have the spirits found you?__  
__You were one of their own.__(Batman)_

_I've seen evil,__  
__It's worn me down,__  
__and I would have made games if you'd been around.__  
__In the darkness where are you now?__(Batman)__  
__Understanding my heart was true__  
__with the lenses of contact you could see through__  
__You could tell me what I should do.__(Batman)__  
__wherever you are__  
__say a prayer for me.__  
__I've been dancing with__  
__monsters perilously,__  
__Some so subtle, only you'd see...__(Batman)__  
__I've seen evil__  
__It's worn me down__  
__and I would have made games if you'd been around__  
__Lost In the darkness where are you now?__  
__In my darkness where you are now?_

_Poetry by Mary Fahl, modified by me._

* * *

CHAPTER 1

BATMAN'S JOURNAL

I'm still reeling from the discovery that I and five other members of the League lost sixteen hours of our lives while under the control of Vandal Savage. No matter how I try, I can't recall the memories of what we must have done during that time. Nothing good, I'm certain.

Worst of all is what I did to Robin while I was under mind control. He was forced to try to bring me down so that I could be treated for the mind control. I didn't hold back when fighting my boy, not one iota. Those memories are crisp in my mind while I tried to kill my son.

I almost succeeded but thank God, the boy is smart. He and Superman's clone, Superboy, worked together to body slam me against a wall. While I was unconscious, Robin gave me the antidote, then helped Conner treat Superman.

Now we sit and nurse our various wounds, physical, mental and emotional. Nothing more than bruises for Robin and he seems to trust me as much now as he did before I attacked him. I wish I could defeat my own sense of overwhelming guilt at what I tried to do to him. It was so very close. I could have lost him, killing him by my own hand. Nobody ever told me that parenthood would lead me from terror to terror about all the different ways my son could be either hurt or killed. I've been somewhat overprotective since the fight on the Watchtower. I suppose I need to wait until my own knees stop shaking before I allow him into anything too dangerous just now.

And now, some news has come to me that troubles me even more. Harvey Dent has been released on parole, supposedly 'cured'. During his ten years at Arkham, he behaved himself and has managed to convince both his psychiatrist and the review board of his sanity. I wish I could believe that, but there were too many relapses in the early years for me to have any confidence in his 'recovery'.

Worse yet, I know that Harvey has a vendetta against me. He thinks I betrayed him when I gave the testimony that got him committed to Arkham. My partnership with Robin is well-known in the criminal community. I suspect that Harvey might strike at Robin to get at me.

I am not sharing this news with Robin. Dent has been in Arkham since Dick was a seven year old, so there is still a chance that Dent doesn't know about the boy.

* * *

ROBIN'S JOURNAL

I just don't understand what's going on with Bruce these days. Batman normally doesn't explain much about why he makes the decisions he does, but I'm starting to get really mad. He's taken me off two simple cases, one involving the Penguin and the other an easy robbery that the Riddler committed.

I've been doing this for how long? Five years. I'm seasoned enough to handle anything Gotham can throw at me. For heavens' sake, I even brought Batman down when I had to! Okay, I had some help from Conner, but I still did it. And ever since that happened, Batman has been tip-toeing around me. He even tried to apologize to me. We were in the batcave last night. I was washing test tubes when he came up to me.

Batman cleared his throat. "Uh...Robin..."

I looked over and grinned. "I'll be done with chores in just a minute. I got all the batarangs I retrieved from patrol in the washer. I'll look them over for chips and damage tomorrow when they're dry. Once I finish these test tubes, I'll be ready for patrol."

"Uh...yeah...I mean, yes. Thank you, Robin..." Batman rumbled. "I...also wanted to...thank you for your part in freeing the League from mind control." He laid a hand on my shoulder.

I rinsed the last test tube and put it into the rack to dry. "No problemo, Boss. I was totally feeling the aster when we got you guys back."

"No...there's more to it than that," Batman said, his voice gone soft. "I could have killed you. I almost did. If you and Conner hadn't ..."

"That's okay," I said. "It's my job, y'know?" He squeezed my shoulder and I winced where I had a truly awesome bruise there. Batman flinched and pulled his hand away.

"I want to...apologize...for hurting you," he said uncertainly. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"Not your fault, Batman," I said. "Don't tell me you're feeling guilty about the fight. You weren't yourself. I know that. None of you were yourselves and we don't hold it against you."

Muffled voice. "I do. I could have killed you. I _tried_ to..."

"Yeah, but you didn't. I'm fine and so is everybody else. You trained me pretty well, Bruce. I was never in any danger," I took off my mask and watched as Batman pulled his cowl back. "Look, you're you again and everything's fine now. You can stop worrying about me and you don't need to apologize." Because I knew that he wouldn't, I reached out and gave Bruce a big hug. Wally teases me about being such a hugger, but I was raised by huggers and I don't see anything wrong with it.

He held me close for a long time. I think he was really scared about almost killing me. He doesn't understand that I'm not a fragile little eight year old anymore. I'm older, wiser and smarter now and I can defend myself, even from Batman. When he finally let me go, he nodded toward the batmobile.

"C'mon Partner, let's go on patrol," he said.

It's funny. I love the Team and all, but sometimes it's great to be out with Batman, just the two of us and the night. We were doing our usual patrol and the wind was blowing through my hair as we swung from building to building. Suddenly, Batman pointed. The Bat-signal was up. I could feel the adrenalin rush as we took off toward the roof of Gotham City Police Headquarters.

We landed with a thump on the roof, my feet landing just behind Batman's. He began striding toward Gordon and his men while I scurried to follow.

"Batman, Robin," Gordon said. "I'm glad to see you two. Word on the street is that Harvey Dent has a beef with Judge Lawrence Watkins. Now, I have him in protective custody, but I was hoping you'd keep an extra eye on him. Just in case."

Batman frowned and looked...I don't know...worried? I haven't seen that expression on his face in a while. I was getting ready for a boring night on stakeout, when Batman turned to me.

"Go back to the cave. You're benched for this one," he said.

To say that I was startled is putting it mildly. I mean, c'mon, this was just a stakeout and who the heck was this "Dent" guy, anyway?

"Batman, why?" I demanded. "Who is this Harvey Dent guy?"

"Two-Face is his other name," Batman said. "I don't want you on this case. Go home. Now."

That's when I got mad. I've been Robin for five years now and I've seen it all, or most of it, anyway. Joker, Penguin, any number of space aliens, you can't scare me. And besides, Batman needs a partner out there. Gotham is just too rough for him to go it alone.

"I'm your partner, aren't I? You need me, especially if this guy is so big and bad!" I said and could see Batman's eyes harden through the eye slits in his cowl. He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me away from the Commissioner and his men.

"You agreed when you became Robin to follow my instructions without question," Batman said in a rough voice. "Now, you will obey me or you're benched until you do. Go home," he said. Judging by the tone, I knew he absolutely meant it.

"All right, all right," I said, raising my hands. "I'll go. But we're gonna talk about this later!" I activated my grapple gun and shot over to the next building. But what Batman didn't know is that I stayed there. I knew he needed me and I wasn't going to let him handle something this dangerous alone.


End file.
